Indigo
by jane0904
Summary: Next in the Mal/Freya 'verse. Jayne gets to hear some bad news of an old friend, and the crew get involved in the underbelly dealings of a small town. Multi-chapter. Please read - enjoy - review!
1. Chapter 1

"Okay." Mal clapped his hands together, getting everyone's attention. Well, nearly everyone. The children were gathered together, still discussing what they were going to do. Mal coughed. Twice.

"Sorry, Mal," Hank said, laughing. "A visit to Wayborn's far more interesting than listening to you."

The rest of the crew, gathered as they were in the cargo bay ready to disembark at the Skyplex, appeared to concur.

"Fine," Mal said. "Only it means they ain't going."

There was sudden silence as every person under four feet tall stared at him.

"Uncle Mal?" Ben asked.

"Daddy?" Ethan put in.

"He doesn't mean it," Bethie said, then glanced up at her mother.

"Cap'n, don't tease," Kaylee said, feeling her daughter's hand creep into hers. "You know you ain't gonna stop 'em going to that new playing level."

"Maybe I will, and maybe I won't. 'Less they listen to what I've got to say, we won't know for sure."

"We're listening, Daddy," Ethan said, hitching his thumbs in his own tiny suspenders.

As always Mal felt a swell of pride fill his chest, not only at being _Daddy _in the first place, but seeing the miniature version of himself standing there in front of him. It was like looking in a mirror that showed the long ago past.

Freya chuckled lightly, and he knew he'd been caught out. Tossing her the look that said _you shouldn't be peeking_, he continued with what he had planned to say.

"We've got but a day here, and chores to be done first before anyone plays. And I mean anyone." He glared at the kids, but they just grinned back. "I know there's replacement shoes and the like to get, so just bear that in mind. And no running off. Jayne, River, don't spend what you don't have to on ammo. I know we've got some cash ready for a rainy day, but I don't want to hear the thunder rollin' quite yet. And that means no Protolluvial rounds." River pouted but he ignored it. "Zoe, you're helping Kaylee with those couple of parts we need – although why we need 'em is a mystery to me." He held up a hand to forestall his mechanic's explanation. "Just make sure she don't come back with so much we're having to share our bunks with hardware."

"As if I'd do that," Kaylee said, trying to stop herself from grinning, looking as innocent as a woman could with a baby in a sling around her chest.

"What'll you be doing, Mal?" Jayne asked, adjusting his gunbelt.

"Picking up any post then going to Delmonico's."

The big man grinned, something like the one he used to use when presented with the possibility of going to a house of ill-repute. Unlike its Earth-that-was namesake, Delmonico's was a bar with naked dancing girls and rooms out the back. "Something maybe we should be knowing, here?" he teased.

"Frey's coming too, in case you were wondering."

"Nope. Just makes it that much more interesting. You know, all girls together." He glanced down at River, who rolled her eyes at him.

Mal internalised the sigh, and made a mental note just who was going to do the septic vat next time around. "I'm meeting a contact, maybe with a job at the end. And if he wants to meet there, that's where we meet."

"So naked women don't come into it."

Mal glared at him, then turned back to the others. "Simon, you're tagging along with Hank to make sure Bethie doesn't persuade him to buy something entirely unsuitable."

The doctor nodded. "I have a list." A very careful list, prepared by the various mothers on board Serenity.

"Sounds almost like fun," the pilot said, Caleb sitting on his hip sucking loudly on a small fabric book.

"Shiny. You all know the combination to get back in, but make sure she's locked up tight if you leave again." Mal clapped his hands together. "Okay, I think we're done. As a final word, don't make trouble, 'cause I'm not going to bail you out." Glancing down at the children, who were now almost vibrating with anticipation, he added, "And if everyone gets done early, we meet at the entertainment complex, 'fore the kids self combust."

* * *

Freya looked through the door at the women gyrating on the stage and shook her head. "I think I'll sit out here," she said, indicating one of the empty tables on the concourse.

"Fine by me," Mal agreed. "Ain't that fond of non-wifely flesh at the best of times."

She smiled as she sat down. "You know the right thing to say."

"Practice, _xin gan_." He settled next to her, close enough that their knees touched, and put the post they'd collected on the table. "And a hell of a lot of saying the wrong thing. I kinda know the difference now."

A waitress, dressed in a skirt so short it was little more than a deep belt, and a flounced top that dropped off her shoulders, meandered out to them. "What'll it be?" she asked in a bored tone.

"Does it have to be anything?" Freya asked. "Can't we just sit here and watch the world go by?"

"Cover charge," the girl said shortly. Probably no more than eighteen years old, her thick makeup and jaded air added at least another ten to her age. "Gotta buy a drink or go someplace else."

"Fine," Mal said. "Two beers."

"Anything else?"

"Nope, that'll be fine."

"We got a special on laps at the moment. Two for one. One for each of you."

"Laps?" It took Freya a moment for her mind to catch up, then she coloured, very slightly.

Mal did not laugh, but it was a close run thing. "No. Thanks. Just the beers."

"Suit yourself."

"Don't you dare," Freya said after the girl had headed back inside.

"Wasn't gonna say a word." Mal had his lips firmly closed, but then his sense of humour intervened before his brain could stop it. "Ain't you ever getting over that prudish streak?"

"No." She crossed her arms.

"Good." His fingers touched her thigh, caressing gently. "'Cause I wouldn't want you any other way."

Her face softened. "Sweet talker."

"Just telling the truth, Frey."

She leaned in and brushed her lips with his.

He groaned slightly. "Behave," he murmured. "It ain't like I can do anything about it right now."

"And Serenity being empty, too," she teased.

"Makes it even worse." He grinned. "But I'm taking a rain check, _dong mah_?"

"Fine by me."

The girl came back out with their beers, and Mal paid the exorbitant amount. "Bigsby'd better have a job for us," he grumbled. "Or I'm gonna make him reimburse us for these."

"Knowing him he's inside right now, tucking a credit note somewhere it really doesn't belong." Her face screwed up, looking just like her daughter's.

"Now, you're wishing you hadn't thought of that, aren't you?" Mal teased in return. "That mental image something you're gonna have to wash out?"

"God, yes."

"Then let's take your mind off it. I reckon there's at least one letter in this pile with your name on it." He started to sort through the envelopes and small packages. "Here." He held one up. It was a box, wrapped in brown paper, cunningly folded so that there was only one corner on the bottom, held down by a wax disc. "Looks like your bro's cipher."

Freya took it, studying the wax. It was impressed with a seal made up of the letters AR curlicued together. It looked old-fashioned, but she knew it also contained an anti-tamper device. "You're right. It is Alex." She shook it delicately, but nothing rattled. "I wonder what he's sent."

Mal plucked it from her fingers. "Nope, you don't get to see, not yet."

She glared at him, affronted. "It's my mail."

"And you know Kaylee'll never forgive you if you open it when she's not there to ooh and aah at whatever comes out."

"I can tell her after."

"Not the same." He put the package back with the others.

"Mal …"

"No point taking that tone with me. I signed for these, and that makes it my decision as to when they get opened."

"That's insane."

"Are you callin' me crazy? Only I'd kinda like to know."

"Well, if the cap fits …"

He grinned, knowing he'd successfully derailed her train of thought from the performances going on inside the bar. "And there you were just telling me how much you loved me."

"Did I say that?" Freya asked, seeing a figure meandering towards them, stick thin with a burst of blond hair on top of his long, lanky frame. "And Bigsby's coming."

"Good." Mal quickly drank off half his beer. "He's buying the next round."

"He'll plead poverty. As usual."

"If it comes to that I'll turn him upside down and shake his pockets until they rattle."

That mental picture made her laugh. "Just don't think you've got out of the other conversation," she warned, though.

"What other one would that be? You likening me to River?" He rested his palm on his gun as Bigsby approached, slouching as always, both hands in his pockets. It always paid to be careful, even with contacts they knew and trusted.

"Crazy is as crazy does."

He stared at her. "What?"

She smiled, but it wasn't at him. "Bigsby," she said, pushing a chair out with her foot. "Take a seat. Next to me."

Bigsby blushed beetroot red, as always somewhat overawed by her.

_You carry on like that, he's gonna take a runner_, Mal thought pointedly.

_Me?_ Even in thought she sounded so innocent, but the look in her eyes said otherwise.

"Bigsby, ignore my wife," Mal said. "And sit down."

The tall man complied, keeping as far away from the disconcerting woman as possible. "Mal. Freya," he said, his voice squeaking slightly on the second name.

_Can I help it if I'm so attractive to the opposite sex?_ Mal heard in his mind, and he had to keep a straight face as he said, "Now. This job."

He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers to get the waitress's attention, and from being the same colour as a tomato Bigsby felt all the blood leave his face as he foresaw leaving this meeting with his pockets considerably lighter.

* * *

There was always an odd look when one of the Firefly's crew happened to mention that they had children on board, but it wasn't really as strange as all that. Zoe herself had been born in space, on a freighter plying the route between the outer planets and Persephone, not leaving until the accident that had claimed her parents. With space travel still taking weeks rather than hours, particularly along the Rim, it made sense to keep families together.

Of course, some travellers preferred to leave their loved ones at home, giving them the opportunities to philander at will, or at least get drunk without accusing eyes on them, but anyone in a stable, caring relationship wanted their family around them.

The new level at Wayborn seemed planned entirely to take advantage of this, and Serenity's children stood outside the entrance and stared, each pair of eyes wider than should have been physically possible.

**_Gaming Zone_**, the neon sign pronounced. **_Come on in!_** the bright red, blue and green neon flashed. **_Let us entertain you! Fun for all ages!_** Images continually formed and dissolved of children playing in holochambers, swimming in zero-g waterless pools, having pillow fights, eating huge ice planets …

"It looks expensive," Simon said doubtfully, considering three exclamation marks two too many.

"Daddy?" Bethie looked up at him. "Please?"

She was doing the look, and he considered it had to be genetic. Her mother could get him to do almost anything with that look, and Bethie had been begging to go ever since she'd found a flyer on the Cortex announcing the Zone's recent opening. Hank had taken their clothes purchases back to Serenity, and now Simon was on his own with five of the seven children on board, each of them gazing at him. His resolve was starting to waver.

"Daddy," Hope said, taking his hand. "Please?"

Okay, not genetic. Maybe nurture rather than nature, but it was effective.

"Uncle Simon?" Ben added in his own brand of manipulation, while Ethan played a stand-in, Jesse's lip beginning to quiver.

Simon knew when he was beaten. "Okay," he said on a sigh. "We'll go in."

The barker at the entrance grinned widely at them and waved them through.

* * *

"Simple pick-up and drop off," Bigsby was saying, although half his attention was on the serving girl who'd just brought their next round of drinks. She was weaving back through the tables towards the entrance to the bar, and his eyes were fixed firmly on her backside.

"Nothing's ever simple where you're concerned," Mal pointed out. There was no response, so he rapped loudly on the table. "Bigsby."

The man jumped. "Wha … what?"

"Concentrate. Or I'll be thinking there's something you're not telling me and double the price." Mal glanced at Freya, but she shook her head minutely.

"Aw, Mal, you know I wouldn't fleece you," Bigsby complained.

"Only 'cause you know what I'd do if you tried. I'd set Frey onto you."

Bigsby swallowed, his prominent Adam's apple bobbing like it was trying to get away.

Freya didn't say a word, just sipped her drink and trying to ignore the taste.

"Like I said, simple job. And decent money, too." Bigsby ran a finger around his collar. "The only reason it's still available is 'cause the guys who were gonna work it ran into a little trouble."

"Purple trouble?" Mal asked.

"Kinda. So they're spending the next coupla months breaking rocks, while I've got a buyer anxious for his goods."

Mal nodded slowly, considering. He knew he was going to take the work, just for something to do, but it was merely a case of how much in the way of cashey-money he was going to be able to get out of Bigsby's pockets. "Where's the drop?"

"Jubilee."

A planet in the Red Sun system. "When?"

"That's pretty much up to you. As long as my client knows the stuff's on its way, he's not too fussed when. As long as it isn't, you know, years."

Mal was calculating, but Freya got there before him. _Three weeks if we take the long way round and go via Lazarus,_ she dropped into his head. _Two if we don't mind crossing Alliance space._

_Why would I wanna go via Lazarus, xin gan?_ he queried.

_I just thought you might like to see Inara._

He narrowed his eyes at the sheer casualness of her answer, but decided not to respond. Yet. He looked at Bigsby. "Four weeks. And that's from picking it up, wherever it is."

"Oh, it's here," the man said quickly, seeing a resolution to his dilemma in sight.

"On the station?"

"Yeah. It got dropped off about eight days ago, and I've been worrying myself bald wondering how I was gonna get it to Jubilee."

"As much as I don't mind hearing about your hairdressing problems, what's the fee?" Mal asked.

Bigsby named a figure. "Half now, half on delivery."

It wasn't bad, not as far as the current rates seemed to be, but Mal was in a playful mood. "Nope. I reckon you're more anxious than that." He settled back, taking amusement from the look of horror on Bigsby's face. "Now, let's get down to some serious negotiating."

* * *

Ben was staring at the holoimage of a ship rotating above him. It was a Cornucopia, one of the new ones that were only now beginning to roll out of the Utopia shipyards. He might not have a hope of being able to spell it yet, but he knew it had an enhanced radion accelerator core with supercooled magnetic drivers and prototype conversion buffers. It was, as far as he was concerned, one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen in his very short life.

"Wow," he breathed.

"Head on in," the man outside said. "Just strap yourself down, put your hands in the control yoke, and see what you can make her do."

It was said a Cornucopia had a range further than any spaceship on the market, and could go months without needing to refuel. Then there were the recyclers and rebreathers –

"Ben, come on." Bethie took his hand, trying to pull him away. "Let's go play with the dinosaurs again."

He stood solidly, his little feet planted on the deck like he was glued to it. "No. Want to play this."

"It's okay, little lady," the man said, smiling at her. "You can have a go. See if you can't beat your bro."

Bethie was biting on her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth. "No," she said, hanging back.

"It's not dangerous," he assured her.

Ben glanced at her. "'S'only a flying sim," he said. "Says you get a print of what you've done." He looked back at the hologram back, his coffee face shining. "I can show Daddy."

"No," the little girl repeated, then whispered, "Not good."

Ethan, more in tune with her due to his own empathic abilities, touched her fingers. "What's up?" he asked quietly, his blue eyes suspicious.

"Not sure. Just ... wrong." She was trying to read the men who were calling, enticing people in, particularly people with children. They seemed okay, normal, but under that normality there was a darkness she really didn't want to touch. She pulled her mind back, but not before the barker at the entrance glanced at her and she realised she'd been staring. She gave him a grin, a little wave, but couldn't stop herself from shivering.

Simon walked over from where he'd been surreptitiously checking out the surgeon's game, where any aspiring doctor could remove an appendix against the clock. "Honey?" he asked, going down onto his heels in front of her and brushing her long brown hair from around her face. "What is it?"

"Want to go home," she said, trying to keep the whine out of her voice and failing. "Please, Daddy, I want to go home."

"But you insisted ..." He couldn't understand it. "And everybody else seems fine ..."

"Daddy, please." Tears were starting to fill her brown eyes.

Simon looked at Ethan, perhaps hoping the little boy would calm her as he could often do, but felt a chill settle over her heart as he saw the same worry reflected in those familiar features. "Ethan?"

"Have to leave," the eldest Reynolds boy said. "Now, Uncle Simon."

* * *

"Jayne."

The big man, engrossed in bargaining the lowest price possible for rounds for Vera, nevertheless turned his head at the sound of River's voice. She was standing in the doorway, facing away, staring into the crowds but not seeing. And the way she'd spoken … this wasn't cajoling, or complaining, or any of the several other dozen emotions she could get into that one word. This was ... _danger_.

"Where?" he asked, thrusting the bag of credits back into his pocket.

"Children."

He nodded. They ran out, leaving the astonished owner alone in the shop.


	2. Chapter 2

"We really want to do that job?" Freya asked, picking up a small vase on one of the stalls, turning it over to see what was written underneath then putting it back, much to the disgust of the bored owner.

"It's a job. It's marginally legal."

"And we've got cash saved if we need it."

Mal knew what she was doing. He'd refused to let her open the package from Alex, saying she'd enjoy it that much more back on the ship, adding that the best was always worth waiting for. He was still limping slightly from the kick she'd given him, and now she was annoying him by dawdling. He was prepared to let her get away with it, at least for a while. "That's not for now."

"Besides, Bigsby was ogling."

"What?"

"He was trying to see down my shirt."

"Frey, honey, he's too scared of you to do that. Besides, he couldn't keep his eyes off the women in the bar."

"Are you saying they're better looking than I am?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"Is it gonna be one of those days?" he asked in turn. "The kind where no matter what I say I'm wrong?"

She stuck her chin out. "Yes."

"Fine. Just so's I know." He sighed, shaking his head. "So if I say you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, and there ain't a one of those silicone enhanced bodies that claim my attention for even a moment, I'm lying?"

"Are you?"

"You gonna answer a question with a question?"

"What if I am?"

He couldn't help it. He laughed. Probably not the best thing to do, especially if she really was annoyed with him, but luckily she smiled instead. "Frey, honey, you know I ain't got eyes for anyone else. And there's a whole host of men out there who think you're pretty special, and I include sly ones at that. So don't go getting yourself all … discombobulated over nothing, _dong mah_?"

"I don't think I've ever been combobulated," she said thoughtfully. "So I'm not sure how I go about being the opposite."

"Don't. It's painful."

"You've had the practice?"

"I surely have. I doubt there's much in this 'verse I ain't had cause to do at least once." He waited for her to make some comment, something along the lines of '_Really? You want to explain in more detail?_', but Freya was staring at something on a stall. "Honey?" Then he realised she wasn't looking at anything at all. "Frey."

She raised her head, and his blood ran cold at her expression. Without a word she turned and ran, and he had to race to keep up with her.

* * *

"If the boy wants to play, let him play," the barker said, standing in their way. "It's just a game."

Bethie whimpered slightly, all her usual courage deserting her.

"Maybe later," Simon said, gathering the children around him. "I think perhaps they're a little overexcited, and it's making my daughter here feel ill."

"Then why don't you leave her with me and take the others inside?"

Simon could see another man ... no, two ... making their way towards them. "I suppose I could, but believe me, when she gets like this, nothing is going to do but going home and medicating her. Otherwise she's just as likely to throw up all over anyone within reach."

"Maybe playing a game will calm her down."

They were determined not to let any of them leave without the children taking part. Simon could feel his heart starting to pound: something was very wrong, and not just Bethie's reaction. His hand dropped uselessly to his empty hip. He'd never been happy wearing a gun, not as a doctor or as a man, but he'd learned the hard way even a Core-bred person like himself needed to be able to defend his family, and he was more than proficient with one now. He still hated it, but for once he wished he'd strapped it on, even though they were on Wayborn, and there seemed to be no danger in taking the kids to the entertainment level ...

He watched the barker, a large man with a bald, shining head, his belly held in by a checkered waistcoat and thick leather belt. Perhaps he could be distracted enough so the children could escape, although it might take something more physical to incapacitate such a specimen as –

"What the _diyu_ is going on here?"

An even bigger man, a young woman at his side, pushed through the ring of watchers.

Simon almost sighed in relief.

River put on the broadest of Rim accents as she approached. "What'd I tell you kids? You know you weren't s'posed to run off like that. And talkin' to strangers? Now that's gonna be getting you punished."

Ethan glanced at Bethie, but she nodded fractionally. "Sorry, momma. We was only playin'." The same accent, reflected back.

Jayne loomed. "They causin' trouble again?"

"Runnin' off, and getting this kind man to take 'em into this fancy-pants place." She indicated Simon. "We'll be payin' you back."

For once Simon was up-to-speed, playing along. "No, no, that's fine. They all wanted to."

"That don't make no nevermind. I ain't gonna be beholden to no-one."

"Honestly. I wouldn't accept any kind of recompense."

River nodded firmly. "Then it's time we were leavin'."

Jayne could still see the men hanging around, in fact moving closer, hands edging towards concealed weapons. Something had to be done. "Well, I don't think that's the case as yet. Fact is, I wanna know how come a grown man's enticing kids into dark corners."

Simon had noticed them too, and while knowing what Jayne was doing, was starting to get worried how it was going to end. "I wasn't doing anything, beyond being a good Samaritan." Maybe he was catching being psychic, but he could see blood about to happen.

"Wait a minute," the original barker said, his forehead screwing up in concentration. "You said you was the little girl's dad."

Everyone ignored him.

Jayne moved forward, his bulk seeming to fill the space. "Samaritan, huh? That some kinda fancy word for a pervert like –" He couldn't finish the sentence due to Simon hitting him on the jaw. He fell backwards to the ground, not entirely of his own free will.

"You take that back," Simon growled.

"Ya think?" Jayne scooped Simon's legs from under him and they rolled on the ground. The other men rushed forward to try and either separate the fighting pair or take bets on who was likely to walk out in one piece.

_Go_, all the children heard in their heads, River's unique mental perfume flavouring the words. _Back to Serenity_.

Bethie grabbed Hope's hand, Ethan wrapped his fingers in Ben's shirt while gripping Jesse tightly, and while the men were distracted by the fight on the floor they slipped outside. Or tried to.

"Where do you think you're going?" The man who stood in their way wasn't quite the size of Jayne, but to the kids he looked like a mountain.

Ethan pushed to the front. "You let us go," he said, his voice only trembling a little. "Or …"

"Or what?" The man leaned down, his huge hands on his hips. "You gonna kick me in the shins?"

"Maybe." Ethan was scared but held his ground.

"Well, ain't that cute. But I don't think so. I think you're all gonna go back inside and be tested."

"No." He hitched his thumbs into his little suspenders.

The man grinned. "You're gonna stop me, squirt?"

"Say 'night 'night," Bethie put in brightly.

He glared at her, his brows pulling together. "Huh?" Then his expression changed and his eyes rolled back in his head as he fell forwards.

As Ethan pulled Ben and Jesse to one side he would swear forever after that the deck plating shuddered as the man mountain hit the floor. Not that it mattered, not when his daddy was revealed, still holding his gun high from where he'd hit the other man.

"You okay?" Mal asked, reholstering, his eyes quickly scanning the children for any signs of harm or distress.

Ethan nodded. "Yes, sir."

Mal glanced at Freya. "The others?"

She was keeping watch on the entrance to the gaming zone, but apart from the man on the floor so far there was no sign of anyone following. "I think Jayne and Simon are having fun, but they'll be coming soon. And the rest are back at Serenity already."

"Good. Tell Hank to get her powered up." He tapped his temple, even as he swung Hope up onto his hip. He started to walk briskly back towards the main levels, not running because that might bring unwanted attention down on them.

"Don't you think it might give him a heart attack, hearing me?" Freya pointed out, doing the same with Jesse before following her husband, the other children hand in hand behind her.

"Then you'll fly. Like you always want to." Mal threw a smile over his shoulder. "Not risking the com, _ai ren_. Someone might pick it up, and get ideas."

She nodded in understanding, her eyes already unfocusing for a few moments. "Done," she said, coming back to the here and now.

"Shiny." He glanced back at the children, smiling for their benefit. "Then we'd better get going. Ain't got time for dawdling."

* * *

Not more than two minutes later River, Jayne and Simon emerged from the arcade, the young psychic delicately stepping over the downed man.

"They gone already?" Jayne asked, not being anywhere near as careful and 'accidentally' treading on unconscious fingers.

Simon winced at the sound of breaking bones, but didn't comment. He'd already watched as River had used the distraction of his and Jayne's fight to take the men down, leaving them groaning with pain and unlikely to be chasing, at least for a while, and now here was a further example of just how violent the 'verse could be. "I take it this wasn't an accident?" he asked instead.

"Mal and Freya," his sister said succinctly. "He didn't want the children to go."

"And did they? Get away?"

She nodded. "And so should we." She set off towards the more crowded areas of the Skyplex.

"So what were they doing, moonbrain?" Jayne wanted to know, following his slip of a wife and knowing his brother-in-law was limping along behind.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and he almost recoiled at the anger on her face, but he knew it wasn't directed at him.

"Testing," she said.

"_Mei-mei_?" Simon tried to catch up, but the leg he'd been shot in some weeks before had taken a kick whilst they were fighting, and it threatened to give under him.

_Jayne._

The ex-merc looked back, saw the problem and came up with a solution. He stopped, grabbed the doctor by the waist and slung him over his shoulder.

"What the …" Simon was suddenly confronted by a close-up view of the seat of Jayne's cargo pants, an unfortunate reminder of when the big man had carried him in much the same position on the _Empress of Sihnon_. "Put me down!"

"Nope."

"I will not be slung around like a sack of coal again!"

"Don't struggle."

"Then put me down!"

"No."

"No," River agreed, her eyes dark, hooded, a portion of her mind back the way they'd come. "One of them has a harder head than anticipated. He's waking up. We don't have much time." She started to run, ignoring the startled looks from the people she passed.

"I shoulda shot 'em," Jayne said, keeping pace with her, his big boots setting up vibrations through his, and therefore Simon's, body.

"Messy," his other half said, shaking her head. "This way they might not realise who we are, but if we leave bodies there would be questions."

"Gotcha." He was always amazed, and proud, of her ability to think things through, even if she was crazy. He put on a burst of speed as they got to an emptier area, making Simon bounce on his shoulder.

"I _will_ throw up!" the young man promised, closing his eyes to the deck alternately approaching and receding. It didn't help.

"You do and you're on laundry for the foreseeable," Jayne warned.

"Awake," River tossed back, and they both knew she wasn't talking about either of them. They sped up even more.

Eschewing the elevator as too slow, she took them down a flight of stairs to the Firefly's docking level, feeling a surge of joy that the glow of her engine was already lighting space through the thick plexiglass windows.

Mal was waiting, the ramp raised and only the small door still open. "Come on!" he urged, waving them forward.

Needing no encouragement, River slipped silently inside, and as Jayne and his burden cleared the threshold he heard the door close behind him.

"Hank! We're on!" Mal yelled into the com.

_"I'm not deaf,"_ the pilot's voice came back, but they could feel the disengage sequence starting.

Mal ran for the stairs, past a small stack of crates that he was sure hadn't been there when he left. As he pounded up the metal he could hear Simon telling Jayne, obviously for the hundredth time, to put him down.

As he reached the bridge Mal could see the Skyplex already drifting away. "Any problems?" he asked.

"They were a bit miffed at the speed of our departure," Hank said, twisting the yoke so Wayborn span out of sight. "But I keep an open d-time just for this sort of thing. I told 'em we just got word someone was sick and we needed to get home."

"Good work." Mal put his hand on the pilot's shoulder and squeezed briefly, then turned to Freya who was standing to one side. "Wanna tell me why we had to leave in such an all-fire hurry?" he asked.

For answer she stepped past him, crooking her finger for him to follow as she went down the steps.

"I ain't a dog," he complained.

"Hey, can I come?" Hank asked, shifting his seat around.

"Anything following us?"

The pilot quickly scanned the boards. "Not a gorram thing. Although I can go to burn if you like …"

"No. No, not if there's no sign. Don't want to tell everyone and his mother where we are."

"Then can I come and find out what the helljust went down?" He could see Mal was about to say no, so added quickly, "I've got the proximity sensors set at their widest, there's nothing on the scope." He played his ace. "Besides, Ben was involved. I'd kinda like to know what's going on."

_I'll keep an eye out, jia yan_, Mal heard in his head. _So to speak._

Mal tried not to smile at River's quite unabashed peeking. "Okay," he said to Hank. "You're right. Come on." He'd barely got the words out of his mouth before his pilot was out of his chair and jumping through the bridge doorway.

* * *

"You're joshing me." Mal couldn't quite believe it.

"Nope," Jayne said, sitting at the table, Binky out of its sheath and lying very prominently next to his hand. "I was starting to wonder if we'd get out in one piece."

"I'm not sure we did," Simon said from his own chair opposite. He was stretching his leg under the table, and rubbing at the recent bullet wound. A small part of his mind was considering whether it was maybe not as healed as he'd thought, and perhaps he should do some deeper scans as it still ached like the devil, but most of his intellect was concentrating on being very angry. "They'll have pictures of us, of the children. There were bound to be security cameras."

Kaylee put her hand over his, and he could feel her trembling. "My babies …" she whispered, looking down at David Gabriel snuggled against her breast. The rest of the children were down in Bethie's room, with a supply of sugary treats and fruit juices, listening to her read one of her favourite stories about pirates. A little too close to home, as far as Kaylee was concerned right now.

"Well, that ain't quite the case," Hank said slowly.

Everyone turned to look at him, all except River, who appeared to be engrossed in the salt cellar, but was in fact letting her mind range freely.

"You care to elaborate on that?" Mal asked.

"I … er … uploaded a virus." Hank tried to grin, but failed.

"A virus?"

"Yeah. Not my idea," he added quickly then looked across at River, saying to her, "Honey, you and Frey talk to me like that too often and I'm gonna end up a dribbling wreck hiding under the floorboards."

"_Mei-mei_?" Simon looked at his sister.

She lifted her head, for once appearing totally sane, and all the more scary for it. "I told Hank to do it. It's something I was holding for an emergency. It will wipe all records for the last twenty-four hours, including visuals." She paused. "I will not have the children threatened."

"_All_ records?" Mal asked. "Ain't that gonna bring down some unwanted attention?"

She fixed her dark eyes on him. "I _could _have ordered all the airlocks to open at once."

"River …" Freya leaned forward, her face concerned.

"But I decided that was probably over-reacting," the young woman finished.

"Just a mite, _xiao nu_." Mal took a deep breath, and wondered if maybe there shouldn't be a few more lessons in control. "But you're sure there's no way it'll come back and bite us in the ass?"

"It won't," River assured him. "It's similar to the one I used on Jericho."

They all remembered the way she'd wiped all record of their visit from planetwide computers, even erasing the fact that Zoe had won an election.

"So we've kind've got a _get out of jail free_ card?" Kaylee wanted to know.

"No," River said regretfully. "I am skilled, but if I use it too often my style will become recognised, and then it will only be a matter of asking people, not machines."

"You mean the 'looking out of the window' type thing?" Hank put in.

"Inexact, but ... yes."

"Then it ain't gonna be something we rely on," Mal said thoughtfully. "Still ... thanks."

River smiled, looking for once like the young woman she should have been. "Bacon," she said quietly.

"Huh?"

Jayne chuckled. "As in 'saved our'."

"Oh. Yeah." Ignoring his mercenary's smirk, Mal slapped his hands together. "O-kay," he said. "Well, it seems to me maybe we've avoided something here, and now we're on our guard against something like it happening again. Which is a good thing. 'Cept I'd still like to know why they were doing what they were doing."

Freya stirred. "I think I might be able to help on that." She held up a small capture, one of the newest, hi-def range. "It's from Alex."

He realised the remains of the small package were in her lap, fragments of red sealing wax amongst folded brown paper. "You opened it?"

She didn't look in the least ashamed. "I knew it was important."

He didn't bother asking how. "Go ahead, then."

Freya laid the capture on the table and pressed play. Immediately the air above it coalesced into a white mist that quickly resolved into an image of Alexander Rostov.

"Hey, I was reading about these," Hank said excitedly. "Micro holo-emitter, improved 4-tech sound systems ... mega expensive."

"Shh, dear," Zoe murmured.

Alex – or, rather, his picture – began speaking. _"Freya, greetings to you from your friend. It's been a while since we spoke in person, but hopefully this finds you and your family well, and that perhaps soon we will all be able to meet up. My girls are fine, although Milly broke her wrist riding her pony. The doctor says it will heal well, particularly with the use of the bone knitter, so it's not inconveniencing her too much. Ellen, on the other hand ..."_ Alex droned on.

Hank looked at Zoe. "Honey, I'm sorry, but I don't see what this has to do with anything."

Zoe watched Mal. "Sir, I tend to agree."

Mal hadn't taken his eyes off his own wife. "I'm thinking this isn't the whole story."

Freya nodded slowly. "It's not." She touched the play button again, pausing the image, but this time she held it down for three seconds, released, then pressed again for five.

Alex's face wavered, rippled, but when it solidified once more his expression was far more serious.

_"Frey, Mal ... I've heard disturbing rumours from people who should know. The Alliance have a new initiative regarding special children, and new methods for testing their abilities."_ Even in this hidden second level Alex was being admirably circumspect_. "I don't know names or places, but the feeling is it comes in the form of a game, engineered to measure ... talents. So far it's only been tested on a couple of worlds, out near th_e _Rim where children might not be missed, but I have it on good authority it's being rolled out wider."_ He dropped his voice, as if afraid of being overheard. _"They haven't given up on their ideas, Mal. Your yi nu wasn't the last, and while she might be considered a failure in their eyes, she's proved, at least to them, that their design is workable."_

Jayne's hands were tight fists on the old tabletop. "Gorramit."

_"Just be careful. I'll keep digging, and I'm sorry for all this cloak and dagger, but you had to know. For all our sakes. Take care, and take care of the little ones."_ He smiled a little, but without humour, his image freezing for a second before collapsing back into mist, dissipating as they watched.

"Well, that was disturbing," Hank said into the silence that followed.

"Dear," Zoe admonished, but Mal held up a hand.

"No. He's right. Disturbing is the word. Downright evil is another." He looked at River. "That what you felt?"

The young woman nodded, the rest of her body motionless. "Not the details, but … the men who were running it didn't know why, only that they'd been told to take note of any child who scored higher than a level 5 on the simulator. All of Serenity's children would have been in that range, with Bethie and Ethan the highest of all."

Mal's stomach tightened, and he exchanged a look with Freya, not surprised to see fury in her eyes. "Then what?" he asked, turning back.

"Contact with parents. Money. Or if they wouldn't sell, kidnap." River's voice lowered to a violent whisper. "Little more than slaves, handed to the highest bidder."

Hank was pale under his untidy mop of hair, all his exuberance crushed beneath anxiety. "They bought kids?"

"Common practice." River's own colouring was high, even as she tried to control the torrent of emotion within.

"But ... traffic in people is against the law," the pilot went on. "It's an Alliance directive."

"Not so's you'd notice." Simon spoke quietly, his outward appearance of calm at odds with the rolling ball of anger in his belly. "It has different names – indenture, contracted labour, debt recovery – but it all boils down to the same thing. Terraforming crews, Mudders ... even on Osiris you could find them, sold into servitude for the rest of their lives."

"Did you –" Hank slammed his mouth shut before the tactless remark could escape, but it was too late.

River got there first. "Mother and Father had servants, not slaves, and they were treated well. If they wished to leave, they were allowed, and retired with a pension if they were still in service when they got too old to work. But other families were not so principled. The Cambersons, for instance ..."

Simon nodded. "Whatever else they did or didn't do, my parents never condoned slavery." He'd made his peace finally with them, but the scar was still tender, catching at odd times like the wound on his leg.

"Then I reckon we had a lucky escape," Mal said slowly. "And as much as I'm leaning more towards River's idea of opening the airlocks, I'm happy we got away clear. 'Cept I'd rather we didn't keep on getting out of situations like that by nothing much more than the skin of our teeth."

"I second that," Hank put in. "I'm all for getting away from things with our skin intact, on teeth or otherwise."

Mal ignored him, but a familiar voice in his head said, _We need to think on better things. And the children are safe. And forewarned …_

He looked at Freya, her hazel eyes gazing into his soul. _Is forearmed?_ He saw her shrug minutely, and his lips twitched. But he knew she was right – they needed to put this behind them. He turned back to the others. "And since we are all in one piece, that kinda leads me on to ask if anyone managed to get their chores done?"

Kaylee raised a hand. "I got the parts I needed. Good price too, on account of Zoe being intimidating."

The dark woman smiled. "I enjoyed it. It's been a while."

"Simon and me picked up everything on our lists," Hank put in. "Paid ticket price, so I guess we weren't intimidating enough."

"I'll give you some lessons," Zoe offered, and the pilot grinned widely.

"We missed on the ammo," Jayne said. "Sorry, Mal. We were kinda busy." He looked at his wife.

She nodded. "Saving the children."

"Yeah, well, I conjure we're all glad you did." Mal glanced at a bruise darkening Simon's jawline. "Just a tad overenthusiastic in the performance, maybe." He exhaled heavily. "Still, we'll just have to hope we don't need anything on the job and stock up when we can."

"We've got a job?" Hank asked, his eyebrows raising.

"Yeah. Bigsby came through."

"Where, sir?" Zoe wanted to know, pushing the small feeling of jealousy away. It used to be that she'd go to every meet with Mal, with her sergeant, backing him up, being his right hand. She still did, for the most part, but just once in a while he took Freya. His wife. Zoe knew she shouldn't feel annoyed – it was natural that he'd want to spend time with the woman he loved, but no matter how much she tried, it still rankled.

"Jubilee," Mal said, unaware of her thoughts. "Under the radar."

"No probs," Hank said. "I can do us a route doesn't take us anywhere near any Alliance outposts."

Mal's memory tossed him an image of a small stack of crates. "I take it that's our delivery down in the cargo bay?"

"It is," the pilot agreed. "It arrived about two minutes before I had folks talking to me without benefit of my ears." He shook his head. "I thought I was going crazy."

"Just 'cause it was Riv and Frey don't mean you ain't," Jayne pointed out.

"All the best people are," River added.

Hank laughed. "I reckon maybe you're right."

"What about the mail?" Kaylee asked, her brightness coming back. "You were going to pick it up. Was there anything?"

"Gorramit, I nearly forgot." Mal turned, but Freya had already put the post on the table. "Looks like there's pretty much something for everyone. Even Bethie."

"Noni?" Simon suggested, knowing how close his daughter was to Hermione Riley, stage name Noni Reynolds, who was currently wowing audiences with Theo Hawkins' troupe nearer the Core.

"I'm taking a wild guess that it's the case," Mal said, picking up one envelope. "Considering it's on scented purple paper." He handed it to Simon.

"Bethie will love it," the doctor said, tucking it into his pocket.

Kaylee pounced on a fat envelope. "Ooh, from my Ma. It'll be family news."

Mal smiled. That meant she was likely to spend the next few hours reading bits out to anyone she could corral, but at least her internal light was switched back on. He could take most things, but seeing his _mei-mei_ anything other than cheerful made him want to go out and beat up windmills.

He felt something touch his mind, and he looked up, seeing Freya gazing steadily at him. He thought pointedly, _Witch_.

She smiled.

As everyone picked over the various letters and packages, Hank said quietly to Zoe, "You know, the man that tries to snatch Caleb from River is gonna end up in little chunks, isn't he?"

"The same goes for all the children," she murmured. "Even you'd do it for Ben."

"Well, sure. But maybe not quite so … vigorously."

She looked sharply at him, but the true concern in his grey eyes touched her. "Not necessarily the word I'd use," she whispered. "But I think I understand why you did." She squeezed his hand.

Eventually everyone sat down with their respective missives, until only one envelope, off white and cheap looking, lay on the old wooden surface.

"Nobody laying claim to this one?" Mal asked, picking it up and turning it over in his fingers. "Jayne, looks like it's for you."

"Huh?" The big man looked up in surprise. He was already piecing out the words in the letter from his brother Matty, telling how Jolene was getting things ready for the new arrival, and making his life a misery for the most part with all her cravings ... "For me?"

"Got your name on it."

Jayne reached out slowly. "There ain't nobody likely to be writing to me," he said quietly, taking it gingerly as if it might explode. "Nobody above Matty, that is."

"Then open it. Before we all die of holding our breath."

The big man stared at the lettering on the outside. It did indeed have his name, care of Wayborn Skyplex, written on it in thick black marker. It didn't mention anything about Serenity, or even that the recipient might be on a Firefly, but then it didn't have to. Jayne Cobb wasn't that common a name.

"Jayne, open it," Hank urged. "Maybe you won the lottery."

"Somehow I doubt it," Simon said, feeling his own itch of curiousness, as Mal might say.

"Or someone died and left you a fortune," the pilot went on. "Only you're never going to know unless you open the gorram thing."

For once Jayne didn't take the opportunity to threaten the other man, instead just sliding his thumb under the sealed edge. It gave readily and he peered inside.

"Well?" Kaylee asked.

"There ain't nothing in ... no, wait." He tipped the envelope up over his hand, and a small slip of green paper fell into his palm. "What the …" Jayne stared at it.

"Jayne?" Zoe asked when the big man didn't move. "Are you okay?"

"What is it?" Kaylee was craning her head, trying to see.

"Looks like a pawn ticket," Hank said.

"What's Jayne ever had that was worth pawning?" Simon commented, then winced as River's elbow met his stomach. "_Mei-mei_," he complained. "I meant apart from his guns."

"Hush," she ordered.

"Okay, Jayne," Mal said, slipping his thumbs under his suspenders. "Now you've got us all curious, want to put us out of our misery?"

Jayne's hand closed on the scrap of paper, crushing it. "Nope." He strode away, out of the kitchen.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be cooking supper?" Mal called, then shook his head. "Damn crew doesn't even listen to me anymore."

Zoe raised an eyebrow at him. "Sir?"

"No, well, you excepted," he backpedalled.

"Just Zoe?" Kaylee asked.

He held up his hands in defeat. "Okay. Okay. Just Jayne. Only he's big enough for more'n two of you." He turned to River. "Any idea what the problem is, albatross?"

She shook her head slowly. "No."

"You likely to be peeking any time soon?"

"No."

"Only I need to know if it's it dangerous to us."

"Are you ordering me to?" Her eyes were huge, dark pools.

"Well, no, maybe not that. But –"

"I'll talk to him," she promised. "And he'll tell us when he's ready."


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner that night was, not surprisingly, a subdued affair. Jayne had come back and thrown a few pots and pans around, at least until Simon took pity on him and told him to go and work off whatever the problem was.

"It's my turn," the big man had insisted.

"I know. And you'll take it. Just not tonight." Simon put his hand on Jayne's shoulder. "Whatever it is, you need to sort it out. And I for one don't fancy eating anything you might manage to cobble together in this frame of mind."

Jayne stared at his brother-in-law. "Doc, I …"

Simon waited, but the words had seemed to dry. "When you're ready, Jayne," he said softly.

The ex-mercenary nodded and strode out of the kitchen, without a thank you or a backward glance.

Simon sighed. Whatever that ticket had been, it had affected him greatly. The sigh turned to a slight chuckle as he opened the stores to see what was available. It amused the doctor sometimes to ponder whether Jayne was still the same man who'd tried to sell them on Ariel. River had wrought so many changes, he'd seriously considered checking the big man's DNA for signs of cloning. It was a thought that kept him occupied for many hours down in the infirmary, particularly when he was sewing up the various knife wounds and bullet holes their life provided.

Still, if Jayne cooked in this state, it would be more than usually inedible, so taking supper duty was Simon's way of sparing the crew, and therefore not too much of a chore.

Nobody complained, clearing the dishes and polishing the plates.

Normally everyone would sit around for at least an hour, drinking coffee and talking about the day, planning the next job, or just chatting about nothing in particular. This time, though, as the meal finished the children needed no urging to go to bed, the events of earlier still hanging over them.

"Permaybehaps an early night wouldn't do any of us harm," Mal said, watching Freya lift Jesse onto her hip and walk towards their bunk, whispering quietly to her, stroking her hair. Sometimes he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off his wife, especially when she was being so tender.

"Fine by me," Hank said, grinning. "More time with Zoe."

"Daddy?"

Mal looked down into the familiar blue eyes of his son and heir. "What, big feller?" Ethan held his arms out, the universal sign to be picked up. Mal did as he was bid, feeling concerned. The boy hadn't asked for this in a long while, a sure sign he was still worried. "Everything's okay, now," he promised softly.

"Story?" Ethan suggested. "Story, Daddy?"

Okay, now Mal was positive. Ethan talked up a storm, only reverting to single words when he was upset. "You want a story?" He smiled, letting his son feel their shared warmth.

Ethan nodded firmly. "'S."

Mal stroked Ethan's hair from his forehead, pushing it back and seeing it fall forwards again, just as uncontrollable as his own. "Sure. I think I can just about manage that. What do you want to hear about?"

"Shadow."

Ethan loved hearing about the ranch, the horses, even some of the milder exploits his father had got up to when he was a boy. Mal's smile grew wider. "Okay. Shadow it is."

Bethie's ears had perked up. "Stories?" she asked. "Can we listen?"

"You wanna hear about when your poor old uncle Mal was a kid?"

"S'please."

Mal glanced at Kaylee. "If your Ma says it's okay."

"Sounds shiny," the young mechanic said, beaming. "Wash and get ready for bed first, though. And teeth cleaned properly."

Bethie grabbed Hope in one hand, Ben in the other. "Yes, Momma." They all three ran out of the kitchen, almost falling over themselves in their haste, leaving the adults chuckling.

"They're unsettled," River said, clearing the last of the plates. "But a night's sleep will make everything right."

"And Jayne?" Mal asked. "Is it gonna make him right?"

"I don't know," the young woman admitted. "But I'm keeping an eye on him."

* * *

Two stories and several glasses of water later, Mal had finally managed to persuade the children to head back to their own beds, although Hope appeared to sneak into Bethie's room, while Ben slid into Ethan's. He didn't mind – at that point human company was probably what they all needed, and after his final check of Serenity he headed back to his own bunk for just that.

Freya was waiting for him, still fully dressed, sitting on the bed. "Mal, we have to talk."

He'd barely got his feet to the deck, but he nodded. "I thought we kinda might."

"With what's just happened on Wayborn, and Alex's message, I ..." She paused for a moment, then went on, "They're desperate, Mal. The Alliance are desperate, and you know what happens when a desperate animal is cornered …"

"They're at their most deadly."

"Look at what's happened to them over the past few years. They lost River, Mara Tam was stolen out from under their noses, the AntiPax … hell, the Miranda Broadwave …"

He crossed the small room and sat down next to her, taking her hand in his. "You're really worried, ain't you?"

"Aren't you?" she countered.

"Hell, _xin gan_, I'm so worried I'm considering hiding."

"Not a bad idea."

He blinked. "What?"

"Finding somewhere, putting down roots, using Serenity just for short jobs, and everyone's home in time for supper."

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, you couldn't do it. Neither could I. Jayne wouldn't know how."

He could see she had honestly been thinking about this again, a subject they touched on once in a while. "And the rest?"

"River'll go where Jayne is, and Zoe follows her captain, at least unless Hank decides to plant his feet in the earth, but …"

"Simon and Kaylee."

"Yes."

He took a deep breath, holding it, then exhaling steadily. "So what's your solution? 'Cause I've got a notion you've not come to anything lightly."

"Those transmitters Kaylee made for Simon and River are good, but not enough. We all need to carry something, some kind of device we can activate if there's trouble."

He nodded in approval. "Good idea. I'm sure Kaylee can get something together if we all help."

"Because there may come a time when River and I aren't around, or we can't hear –"

His grasp on her hand tightened. "Frey? You seeing something?"

"No. I …" Her brow furrowed. "I don't know. I don't think so. But … better to be safe than sorry."

An ice-cold band slipped around his heart. "Frey, honey, if there's something you're not telling me … I'm a big boy. I can take it."

She gazed into his eyes, their blueness holding her, making her want to swim in their depths. "I don't think it's anything," she said slowly. "Probably just a hangover from what's happened lately. I just feel like we're missing someone."

"Maybe it's Inara," Mal suggested, feeling the fear recede somewhat. "Spending that time together on the Empress, maybe you're wanting to talk to your sister."

"She's not my sister."

"Not what River says."

"River says a lot of things. She told Hank fairies came on board every night and did the washing up, so she didn't have to."

Mal's lips curved. "And did he believe her?"

"For maybe the smallest fraction of a second he entertained the idea. Then he threw the washcloth at her."

"That how come there was water all over the floor the evening 'fore last?"

She nodded. "They had a water fight."

"Sometimes I wonder if that man's not the youngest of all the kids," Mal mused. Then he became serious again. "But that's not everything, is it?"

She looked down at their joined hands. "How come you know me so well?"

"I have my wicked way with you most nights. I figure I maybe know a little something. And more'n that, I love you. Kinda gives me an edge."

Freya looked up, and he was glad to see she was smiling a little. "There is, of course. I don't think the kids should go anywhere without an armed adult."

"Anywhere?"

"Well, places we don't trust."

"I can't see Inara taking kindly to –"

"Mal, don't be obtuse. You know exactly what I mean."

"Oh, I surely do. And I noticed you said _armed_."

"Everyone should carry a gun. All the time we're off ship. Even on Lazarus."

Mal felt a shiver start at the base of his spine and work its way up to his scalp, making his hair stand on end. "Okay, now you're giving me the heebie-jeebies. There is something you're seeing, aren't you?"

"I just want us to be safe."

"Okay." He decided to take it at face value for the moment, but the question was going to come up again, probably later on that night.

"And don't think you can make me tell you something I don't know, just because you've sexed me into a stupor," she warned, catching the edges of his thought.

He laughed. "Thought that was me, _ai ren_," he said gently, leaning over to press his lips to hers.

* * *

Jayne lay on his work-out bench, lifting and lowering the bar in concentrated rhythm, focused only on his breathing, his grip, ensuring his technique was correct as he exercised. He could feel the muscles starting to burn as he reached fifty, but only paused for a count of ten before beginning again.

A spasm in his left bicep had him having to manhandle the weights back into their cradle, wondering briefly if he was going to have to call for help, which would be embarrassing as well as difficult – his internal clock, usually very accurate at least as far as hours and minutes went, was telling him everyone had been in bed for some time. Then, just as he was about to swallow his pride, the bar slid home with a snick, and he sat up, rubbing his arm.

It was stupid, he knew, doing this sort of thing after a meal, and worse, alone, but he honestly didn't know what else to do. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear the Shepherd, before he took to the corn rows and still with the scary hair, telling his unlikely work-out companion to talk to Mal, to explain, that he'd understand, try to help, but …

Always there was a 'but'.

Maybe it was the adrenalin pumping through his system, or the tiredness meeting it the other way, but thinking of Book seemed to open the floodgates, and uncalled for memories flooded over him, washing through his brain and making the images dance.

So long ago …

_She was pretty. On the plump side – which he liked – with long blonde hair that wound around her bare shoulders then fell to her waist, and green eyes that laughed as much as she did. Her name was Mallory, and they'd just had a roll in the hay that left him out of breath and ready for sleep. Still, he wasn't going to allow himself to drift off: he was a mercenary, and he hadn't lived as long as he had without having a few rules, and keeping to 'em, number one of which was not to let his guard down at any time, not even when his John Thomas was thanking him very much for the experience._

_Mallory lay on her back, staring at the cracked ceiling and smiling widely. "Gorram it, you're the best I've had in a long while."_

_"Bet you say that to all the fellers," Jayne joked._

_"Maybe I do. Means return business. But it ain't just words with you." She looked over at him, perspiration sitting as tiny balls on her top lip. "If'n I didn't know better, I'd'a thought you'd been trained by a woman."_

_"Maybe I was."_

_She got up onto one elbow, her breasts touching his arm. "Knew it. You ain't just in it for the quick thrust, you wanted to make sure I had a good time too."_

_He shrugged, as much as he could lying down. "Better for me if you do."_

_"Most men don't see it that way. Almost feel like giving you a refund."_

_He grunted a laugh. "Only almost?"_

_"Working girl," she said apologetically. She began to run her nails across his chest, making swirling motions in his sweat-soaked hair. "Not in my good interests to do that."_

_He lifted his hand and touched her back. "That what these are?" There were faint scars under his fingertips._

_She wriggled a little, which felt more than good against him. "He's a hwoon dahn."_

_"Kill 'im," Jayne advised. "Nobody that beats up on a woman deserves to live."_

_"Most of it's my own fault."_

_"What, you take off your dress and ask him to whup you?"_

_"No. But if I say the wrong thing, do something he doesn't like …"_

_"Not give him the money he thinks you made?"_

_"Yeah, that kinda thing. My fault, see?"_

_"Nope."_

Jayne shook his head, trying to get the pictures out of his brain, and they dissolved into mist, whirling away through the cargo bay. He hadn't loved Mallory, had only spent a few nights in her company, leaving money on the dresser before he left. But like all the whores he'd spent his cash on he treated her right, not like some folk, and to see an honest working girl beaten like she was made him mad. Still, after a few weeks he'd left again, back into the Black on a freighter heading for Regina. He hadn't been back.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he felt a slight tremble through his frame that he put down to over-exertion. One thing was sure, though: he needed to see his wife.

River hadn't gone into their shuttle, he knew that. No matter his concentration, he hadn't missed her, so as he stood up, wiping his neck with a scrap of towel, he let one word coalesce in his mind. _Moonbrain?_

_Eden._

He had to smile. There was no way she hadn't picked up on his anxiety, and somehow having her fingers in good, Lazarene earth kept her grounded, less liable to suffer an episode that might lead to blood. Maybe he should try it, he pondered as he strode towards the common area and River's garden.

Inside the old storage area the lights were turned low, simulating dusk, or maybe bright moonlight, but he could make out his girl tending one of the bins. On a blanket in the corner lay Caleb, his thumb in his mouth, fast asleep.

"What'cha doing, _bao bei_?" Jayne asked, leaning in the doorway.

"Weeding." She plucked something small and green from the soil, dropping it into the basket at her side.

"This time o'night?"

"They keep growing."

"Yeah, well, weeds tend to do that."

"They're tenacious," she went on, not looking at him, apparently engrossed in the task at hand. "No matter what you do, they're always there. Like memories."

He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, wondering fleetingly how this 90-lb woman could make him feel no bigger than his son. "Riv, I –"

She looked up at him, but to his surprise it was with tenderness. "I didn't peek," she promised. "You projected."

"Getting good at that," he joked. "Not had much else use for my brain before."

"My Jayne is clever," she admonished, as if she was talking of someone else entirely. "I'll hurt anyone who says otherwise."

"Even me?"

"Especially you." She pointed at him with a dirt-encrusted finger. "You have intelligence."

"Low cunning."

"Survival instincts."

"Yeah, I'll give you that. I'm pretty sure I'm still alive, else I'm standing here a remarkably good looking corpse."

She smiled and went back to her weeding.

Still, an image of Mallory lying on the bed teased at the edge of his brain, and he stirred. "Riv … that girl …"

She shook her head. "It was a long time ago."

"Yeah, but –"

"You paid her."

"Yeah, yeah, I did, but that ain't –"

"And you treated her well."

"I thought you weren't peeking." He didn't want to sound accusing, but heard it in his voice.

"I know you." She sat back on her heels, her dark gaze once more on him. "That is who you are. You treated the whores like ladies, and treat me like a wife."

"That's 'cause you are."

"So how can I be jealous?"

"I'd be."

"I'm not."

"Not even a little bit?"

"You're mine. I'm yours." She touched the tattoo on her finger, the twin to the one on Jayne's left hand. "Forever. And now."

"I just don't mean to hurt you."

"Then don't lie."

"Have I?"

"No. And I promise I haven't looked. But I think you need to tell someone, whatever it is." She stood up gracefully, closing the gap between them on bare, silent feet. "Don't let it fester."

"You think that's likely to happen?"

She laid an earthy hand in the centre of his chest, feeling his heart beating strongly within under the palest of pale scars. "It might."

He swallowed. "I know," he admitted. "But … it's hard. Part of my life I ain't told anyone." _Not even you_, he added to himself.

"You are ready."

"You think?"

"I know. But you need to know too." She reached up and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Time for bed."

"Not throwing me out, then?"

"Yes. But only temporarily," she added as she saw the shock cross his mind. "If you won't speak to me …" Her eyes drifted from his face towards the stairs leading from the common area.

"You think?" he repeated.

"I know." She dusted her hands together, then went to pick up her sleeping son. "And after, we'll be waiting."

* * *

Jayne looked into the kitchen, the only illumination coming from the single lamp on the old wooden table, not surprised in the slightest to see Freya sitting there, illuminated by its glow.

They'd become good friends over the years, seeing something reflected from the other in their own makeup, even if to everyone else they had little in common. There had been a time, maybe at the beginning, when he'd considered making a play for her, but even then there'd been only one man for her, and he knew he didn't stand a chance.

Besides, it was better now. Pals. Always having each other's backs. And a good friend was worth more'n rubies in the cold 'verse.

"Frey."

She looked up. "Hey."

"Drinking alone?" He nodded towards the tin mug in front of her, the distinctive smell of some of Kaylee's finest filling the room.

"Have one with me and I won't be." She grinned. "Pull up a chair."

"Maybe just the one."

He half-smiled and picked up a spare mug, sitting ready, almost as if she'd been waiting for him. "Mal know you're here?" he asked.

"No. He's asleep." She watched him pour a healthy slug of alcohol before he sat down.

"You sexed him into unconsciousness?"

Freya laughed. "Come on, Jayne, you're a man. You know men like to sleep after."

"I ain't exactly seen it from that side, but I guess. And women like to snuggle and talk."

"Different species, I've come to believe."

"Wouldn't be surprised."

"What about River?"

"Heading for bed. Soon be away with the fairies." His lips twitched again. "Only don't you go tellin' her I said that."

"River doesn't mind. She knows who she is."

"Most of the time, yeah." He lifted his mug. "To absent friends."

"Absent friends."

They toasted and Freya drank, feeling the familiar burning sensation reaching down into her belly. "So," she said, when she was sure her voice was going to be almost normal. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. Mainly 'cause you can pluck it outta my brain without my mouth getting in the way." He swirled booze around his tongue before swallowing.

"You know I don't do that." At his look she smiled. "Much." She leaned forward. "Jayne, everyone on the crew knows you're hurting, even those who aren't psychic."

"Then everyone on the crew needs to butt outta my business."

"They can't. They care about you."

"They shouldn't do." He shook his head. "I've done a lot of stuff, Frey. Hell, it's been thirty years since I left Ezra – it's to be expected. You must be around the same since you left your folks."

"Nearly. Long enough to regret some things."

"You saying I'm the same?"

"Aren't you?"

Jayne sat back, contemplating his mug. "I guess. Bein' with River … it's changed me, I know. Stuff I'd've done without thinking before … stuff I'd never've done … she's changed me."

"For the better."

"Prob'ly. Maybe." He shrugged. "Just different."

"I stand by my first comment."

He smiled. "I want to live forever, but I know that ain't possible. I'm going to the hot place, Frey, and Riv's gonna be one of them angels, but I don't mind too much. These few years here with her, they've been the best of my life. If I go tomorrow I ain't gonna regret a day of it, and every hour is a bonus."

Freya had to chuckle. "Mal's right. You really are a deeply sentimental man."

"I ain't."

"Jayne, I think you have to admit it. The way you've always sent money home to your Ma and Mattie, even when it's left you with virtually nothing – and there's no point in denying it, I've seen it."

"But that's family."

"Then the way you are with Bethie, Ethan, all the other children, and not just Caleb. Which is how we know you're hurting."

He acted like she hadn't spoken. "That's just being … protective." He sighed, then added, "And I ain't hurting. I don't have those kinda feelings. I'm just … saying goodbye."

She didn't answer for a moment, just gazed at him. As the contemplation began to feel uncomfortable, she spoke, this time about herself. "Amon was my friend. My mentor. He saved my life, literally as well as figuratively. And I killed the man who killed him."

"You handed him over to be strung up," he corrected, pointing a strong finger at her.

She smiled. "You remember?"

"Not likely to forget." He could still see her standing there, in front of them, trying to explain why she'd left, and the stone cold look on Mal's face. It had taken a long time for him to forgive her, but it marked a sea-change in their relationship. If anything, it was stronger than ever. "Bloodied 'cause you'd made him bleed …"

"So I do understand."

His blue eyes, so different to Mal's, gazed back at her, then he nodded. "Yeah. Guess maybe you do." He made a sound in his throat that might have been a bark of laughter, or just easing the rawness. "Guess maybe there's most people on this boat would understand too."

"That they would. Even Kaylee, and she's never had to avenge anyone."

"Yeah, but I wonder sometimes if'n she'd be the worst of us all, if it came down to it."

"I don't think we want to find out."

"Nah. Reckon we don't." He splashed more whisky into their mugs. "He was better'n me. Always was."

She didn't have to ask who. "Tell me about him."

* * *

At breakfast Jayne and River were the last to sit down, the others already eating. For maybe the first time in living memory the big man didn't fill his plate, just leaned forward and let the green slip of paper fall from his hand into the centre of the table.

Everyone stilled.

"Jayne," Mal said slowly. "I take it you've got something to say."

Jayne felt River's hand rest lightly on his thigh as he looked at Freya. "You tell 'im?"

She shook her head. "Not mine to tell."

"I don't know more'n anyone else," Mal allowed. "'Cept prob'ly our albatross here." He glanced at River, but for once she didn't come out with an incomprehensible comment, just gazed at her husband encouragingly. "Fine." He looked back at Jayne. "So? I conjure you've kept us waiting long enough. And I hope it's worth it."

"I'm hoping for exciting," Hank put in, then locked his lips together at Zoe's glare.

"S'okay, Jayne," Kaylee said. "Whatever it is, we'll understand. You ain't … you ain't sick, are you?"

"Not, not sick, little Kaylee." Jayne cleared his throat. "I …" He felt River's fingers squeeze his thigh and he took courage. "You know Vera?"

Zoe smiled. "Jayne, everyone from here to the Core knows your Callaghan."

"Well, maybe they do. And the story about the six men who came to kill me?"

"Yes."

"Well, maybe I left out a part of it."

"How big a part?" Hank wanted to know.

"Pretty big. Indigo MacCready."

"I take it that's a person," Mal said drily.

"Friend o'mine."

"A close friend?" Simon asked.

"Showed me the ropes when I became a merc. Without him, I'd be six feet under." He looked at River. "You'd'a liked him."

"I know."

"Yeah. Well, he was there. At my back. Took out one of 'em as was gonna shoot me in it, then watched as I did the same to the rest. He told me then I didn't need him any longer. That I was ready." Jayne grunted. "Hell, I'd been out on my own for years, meeting up with him once in a while, but I knew what he meant. So did he. It was the last time we saw each other." If Jayne realised he made it sound like the two men were lovers, he didn't show it. "He went off one direction, me the other."

Mal exhaled noisily. "Jayne, as interesting as this is, it doesn't exactly –"

"Indigo's dead."

"What?" Kaylee looked shocked, her warm heart saddened even though she hadn't known the man existed until half a minute before.

"Yeah."

"When?" Zoe asked.

Jayne shrugged. "Don't know. Just know he's gone."

"And the ticket?" Mal prompted. "What's that all about?

"It's the way we figured to let the other know we were dead." He shook his head, remembering. "One time we came across a stash of guns. Good ones. Looked like booty from a raid on an Alliance camp, but whoever'd done it … well, it didn't look like they were coming back. Not from the dust on everything. Anyway, we took our pick. I pretty much sold mine straight off, seeing as I'd hit a lean spell, and I had this urge to eat. I just kept what I needed for the next job." He saw Simon raise his eyebrows. "It was before I started my collection, okay?"

"Jayne, I didn't say a word," the young doctor protested.

"Anyway, we were drinking, and I told him how a mutual friend of ours had wound up in trouble and gotten himself hung, and Indigo didn't know and it made him kinda maudlin so … anyway, we both of us still had one of the guns from the stash. We were near falling down drunk by that point, I admit, but we each of us took them to the local pawnshop, got tickets for 'em." He almost smiled. "Drank the money that night, if I recall. And had us some very fine feminine …" He came back from the then to the now, and looked sheepishly at River. "It was a long time ago, moonbrain."

She nodded smoothly. "Yes."

"Anyhow, we agreed that we'd keep 'em, the tickets, and leave note that if we died it was to be sent to the other." He pointed to the green slip. "That was Indigo's."

Mal leaned forward. "You mind?"

"Go ahead."

Serenity's captain picked it up. It was indeed a cheap pawn ticket, marked with a number and an amount of credits, a signature at the bottom just identifiable as _Indigo MacCready_. He turned it over, and became very still.

"Sir?" Zoe felt a thrill of something run up her spine into her hair.

"You figure this is right?" Mal asked Jayne.

"Can't see why not." The ex-mercenary was almost at attention.

Hank was trying to see, his curiosity about ready to kill more than just a cat. "What …"

"Show 'em," Jayne said.

Mal nodded, and turned the slip around so that everybody could see.

"Shit," the pilot breathed.

"Oh no." Kaylee had her hand over her mouth.

"Yeah," Jayne said quietly.

There, written on the back of the pawn ticket in thick black pencil from an unformed hand, were the words _SHOT IN THE BACK. CASON'S POINT_.


	4. Chapter 4

Indigo MacCready. Nobody knew if _Indigo_ was his real name, or just something somebody on some moon had christened him with because of the number and variety of his tattoos, but that's what everyone called him, from the women in his bed to the men at the end of his guns. He wore two pistols, slung low on his hips, the leather of the holsters slightly greasy from constant use. He never told anyone when he was born, but he looked the kind of man who'd reached his forties and just stayed there. He could have been sixty, and nobody could tell the difference, although it was probably nearer to the latter since Jayne had met him some thirty years before.

The ex-mercenary settled back in his chair at the table, and sighed. "Like I said, he was the man who taught me how not to get dead. Which wasn't easy. There're times I think I was greener than the doc here when I left Ezra, working my passage on anything that'd have me, doing pretty much anything, including cleaning the bilges on a regular basis."

Simon didn't bother to complain – it wasn't like Jayne was being deliberately insulting, just giving in to the habit. Still, the look on his face was slightly pained, although that eased when Kaylee slipped her hand into his.

"So you weren't a gunhand in the beginning," Zoe said slowly.

"Nah. I was hardly old enough to shave, let alone be taken seriously. It took a year or two before I filled out to match my height, and I was nineteen before I actually worked as a merc." He shook his head. "Nearly didn't make it to twenty," he admitted. "Blind luck … and Indigo."

"How?" Mal asked.

"You mean how'd I meet him?" Jayne actually smiled. "We was on the wrong side of each other, and his partner at the time was all for killing me, just to make a point. Indigo persuaded him not to, saying it was pro-fessional courtesy. Anyway, they got the loot, I got tossed, and was down to my uppers when Indigo walked back into the saloon I was drowning my sorrows in." He paused a moment. "I don't really remember what he said, but it was something about seeing himself in me, and as he'd saved my life it was his to do with what he wanted, so it was only fitting he keep me alive, at least for a little while."

"He sounds … magnanimous," Simon murmured.

"Not sure about that," Jayne admitted, "but he taught me everything he knew, and then some."

"That's pretty much what I meant."

"Oh. Then, yeah. What you said."

River, next to him at the table, stroked his thigh calmingly.

"What do you think happened to him, Jayne?" Kaylee asked, her warm heart breaking a little for her friend.

"Truth is, I ain't got an idea." The big man's lips tightened. "He shot better'n me. Taught me how to use any weapon, but he was always better. Not that I grudged it. He'd had longer in the 'verse than I had, and I was getting good. But I always knew he'd be one step in front'a me." He shrugged. "Can't see how anyone got the drop on him."

"Shot in the back …" Hank muttered.

"Yeah. That'd be about the only way. Hafta be some kinda coward to do that."

"And you want to go find out." Mal might not be psychic, but he knew how to read people otherwise.

Jayne looked at his captain. "Ain't far. Just on Ithaca. If you don't wanna go there, let me borrow the shuttle. I'll go check it out, and you can pick me up on the way back."

"You do know we've got a job, and it's possible we're gonna need your particular skills."

"Mal, the only reason I'm here is 'cause of this man. You know what I mean."

Mal did, and for good reason. He didn't speak about the war, but there'd been someone like that in his own past. He glanced at Freya, who gazed back. _Ai ren? _he thought carefully. _Is it what I think it is?_

She nodded, barely a movement of her head. _Closure. And retribution._

_Figured as much._ Mal turned back to his gunhand. "Jayne, I ain't letting you take the shuttle."

"Aw, but Mal –"

"Because I ain't letting you go there alone."

For a moment Jayne looked confused, then it cleared from his brow like a storm disappearing over the horizon. "You're coming with me?"

"Job's on Jubilee, and Frey's intimidating nature got us a month to do it. And if memory serves Ithaca's in that general direction, if a mite closer. So I reckon we can take us a few days, just so's you can pay your respects."

"It wasn't my respects I was thinking of," Jayne said.

Freya leaned forward, her hands clasped lightly on top of the old wood. "We know what you want. And understand. We're just going along to make sure you don't get put in beside your friend."

Jayne felt River's fingers squeezing his thigh. "Not intending that."

"Then we'll be there for moral support only." Freya half-smiled. "You're family."

"Yeah." It showed the measure of his trepidation that he didn't disagree. "Then I guess it'd be okay."

Mal cleared his throat. "And on that fulsome acceptance …" He looked at Hank. "Get us a course laid in, and work out how long we can spend on Ithaca. As much as Bigsby is a pain in the _pigu_ we shouldn't be late if we can help it."

"On it," Hank said, standing and picking up his forgotten breakfast plate. "Not sure I'm hungry now, anyway."

"Thanks, Mal," Jayne said, relaxing a little.

Simon collected his and Kaylee's bowls and followed the pilot around the counter towards the sink. "You know, I think that's the most I've ever heard Jayne speak," he said quietly to Hank.

"I know. Scary."

"But not as scary as me," River whispered in their ears, making them both jump.

"_Mei-mei …_"

"Gorramit!"

"My Jayne needs this." Her voice was quiet, firm. "And I want you to be there to support him."

Simon looked into his sister's eyes. "We will be. But if he's going there to kill someone …"

"It may not come to that."

"This _is_ Jayne we're talking about," Hank pointed out, then winced as a slender, hard finger poked him in the chest.

"Then we will make sure he comes home."

"Uh … sure, River."

"Then that's fine." She smiled brightly and walked away.

Simon watched her go back to her husband, sliding into the seat next to him and leaning against his bulk.

Hank blew out a long breath. "Sometimes, doc …"

"I know what you mean." Simon shook his head and wondered what his sister wasn't telling them.

* * *

"Mama?"

Freya looked up from her writing as she concocted yet another lesson plan (that she hoped would be interesting, entertaining and relevant) to see Ethan standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "Hey, sweetie."

"Can I … ask something?"

She smiled. "Well, I didn't think you'd come for extra classes." She held out her arms and he ran forward, jumping into her lap. Ruffling his hair she asked, "What is it?"

"Uncle Jayne."

"Ah." She'd known this was coming. The whole discussion at breakfast had been in front of the children, and while they'd kept unnaturally quiet it was obvious they'd been taking it all in. "Are you spokesperson?" she asked gently.

His little face screwed up thoughtfully. "No?"

"I mean, has everyone decided that you should come and find out what's going on."

"Oh. Then yes." He shrugged. "Bethie said."

"I thought as much." Freya wrapped her arm around her son's waist. "What do _you_ think's going on?"

Ethan pondered a moment, then said, "Uncle Jayne's unhappy."

"You can feel that?"

He nodded firmly. "Purple."

"What?"

"Like a muddy purple cloud around him."

She pushed his hair from his forehead. "You often see feelings as colours?"

"Mmn." His thumb ran along his lips but he quickly pulled it away. "Is that wrong?" he asked.

"No, of course not. As long as you remember to keep your own walls up when you're off ship," she reminded him.

"Yes, Mama. I do. But that man yesterday … the one who tried to stop us … the one Daddy hit …" A grin swept across his face, but was gone again quickly. "He was black. But not friendly like …" He pointed towards the bridge, towards the Black that surrounded them and kept them safe, then looked back into his mother's eyes. "Black with red streaks."

"He wasn't a nice man," she allowed, her mind giving her the somewhat satisfying image of him collapsing to the ground thanks to Mal's ministrations. After all, the man had threatened the children.

Ethan shook his head in agreement. "No."

"Have you seen many men like that? All red and black?"

"No." Ethan rubbed his nose. "Not that dark."

"If you do, you'll tell me?"

"'S, Mama." He shifted a little. "But Uncle Jayne …"

Freya had to smile. She wasn't going to be able to distract him from his original purpose. "Uncle Jayne is unhappy because a friend of his has died. And he wants to know why."

"Is he going to kill someone?" Ethan wanted to know.

This time she held the sigh inside. All of Serenity's children knew more about the bad things in life than they should, no matter how much their parents tried to protect them, and unfortunately death was something they had first hand knowledge of.

Looking into his blue eyes, she knew honesty was the best policy. "I don't know, Ethan," she admitted. "He might. His friend was special to him, and what happened has hurt him."

"Shot in the back …" Ethan had seen the green slip of paper, just like everyone else. "Bad."

"Very bad."

He chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "Do you think Uncle Jayne would like to keep Maoli for a while?" Even the big ex-mercenary had become affectionate towards the silver grey cat, although he'd never admit it.

"He might," Freya said, having to hold back the smile. "You could ask."

"'Kay." He wriggled down from her lap. "He can have my 'lligator, if he wants."

The smile came of its own free will no matter how much she tried to stop it. "I think Maoli's probably enough."

"Good." Ethan grinned then ran out of the kitchen.

For a long moment she stared after him, then turned back to her notes, looking but not seeing, her mind on something – and someone – else entirely.

* * *

The street was long, dusty, lined with saloons and stores, as far as the eye could see. Heat from the sun made things hazy, but he could feel Binky in the small of his back, snug inside the sheath, while Betsey rested against his hip. His fingers flexed, as if he'd forgotten something, but he shrugged and walked on down the middle of the road.

Someone called out to him, and he looked left, up towards one of the windows.

A woman leaned out, her brassy blonde hair tossed over her bare shoulders, showing more cleavage than the time of day really allowed. She beckoned, her long red fingernails looking like they were dripping blood.

He shook his head. As much as he'd have liked to stop and dally, he had somewhere to go. He strode on, seeing her shrug out of the corner of his eye.

Not that it mattered. It didn't seem to matter how far he walked, he wasn't getting even close to the end, and the time was getting on. The sun would be starting its downward descent soon, and if he didn't –

The gunshot was loud, the air vibrating visibly, but that was only secondary to the blow in the centre of his back which pushed him forwards. He tried to keep his balance, but his legs wouldn't obey, and he pitched into the dirt, face down. Taking a ragged breath he could taste dust, but the overwhelming odour was of something much more familiar.

Someone grabbed him, rolled him over to stare up into the sky. A figure blocked out the light, and he had to squint to see, feeling an odd ache in the centre of his chest. He reached up and touched the striped fabric of his best shirt, his fingers coming away red. The ache grew, becoming pain, then agony, and the edges of his vision began to go dark.

The figure above him bent down, and he could finally make out the face just as he spoke.

"Things ain't always what they seem, boy," Indigo MacCready said, adding as a rushing sound got louder and louder, "Didn't I teach you anything?"

Jayne woke up, the blankets pushed back, his heart pounding like a triphammer. He looked wildly around, then swallowed as he felt River shift slightly against him. In the semi-darkness he glanced down at her, her lips slightly open as she slept.

A dream. That's all it was. Just another dream. It was that damn ticket, that's what it was. Bringing up the past and making it hurt again. No, not hurt. But itch. Like a scab covering a healing wound. Only it never really healed.

He lay back and closed his eyes, trying to chase the cold sweat away.

Something leaped onto the bed and he sat up, his heart rate climbing again.

"S'only Maoli," River murmured, turning over. "Likes you."

Jayne took a deep breath and held it for as long as he could, exhaling slowly. Just like Freya had once shown him, he imagined all the tension he felt whispering away in a red haze until he felt his body relax.

The sleek grey cat walked up the blankets, her slight weight hardly making a dent, and stared at him, her emerald eyes seeming to glow in the low light. She gave a faint 'rowr'.

He had to smile. Ethan had offered his cat to keep him company before dinner, and when they'd all retired for the night he and River had found Maoli waiting for them in the shuttle, curled on the pillow. Jayne had put the feline outside, but she'd obviously found her way back in. In fact, thinking about it, she must have been watching while he and River were ... The smile widened.

Maoli butted his hand with her head, and he absently fondled her ears, starting a purr that was, as always, far too big for the cat's body.

Settling back, Jayne felt River roll into him, and Maoli settled down as well, tail flicking gently as her eyes closed, slipping into sleep easily to dream of chasing mice.

Jayne sighed. If only his own rest was going to be as easy to find.


	5. Chapter 5

Priam, Ithaca's single moon, was hanging low on the horizon as Serenity came in to land, casting a pinkish hue over the landscape. The sun itself had already set, leaving an odd twilight.

"What's this place like?" Hank asked as he settled the Firefly into her berth with barely a bump. "Never been here before, myself."

Mal, standing behind him, his arms crossed, shook his head. "Me neither," he said. "Never had the need. It looks pretty much like anywhere else."

From the advantage of height, they could see across the town spread out in front of them. It was built around two major roads in a T-shape, the horizontal abutting the port, while the vertical led away, the buildings getting progressively more fancy and therefore more expensive as distance wore on. The furthest appeared to be mansions, separated by landscaped gardens and ringing Cason's Point in a huge semi-circle.

Further back, on the central of the hills surrounding the town, was something more akin to an old-fashioned Earth-that-was chateau, gazing down on everyone they considered below them. Even from this distance it appeared to be made from stone, probably imported at enormous cost on private haulage vessels, and the moonlight glittered from its many windows.

Close to, though, the predominant building material seemed to be sheet metal topped with solar converters for cheap power, with haphazard shanties at either end of the main road.

"Odd they've got somewhere like this," the pilot commented, powering down.

"Huh?"

"A dock like this."

They'd seen it as they came down, directed by Port Control to land on a clearly delineated rectangle of heat compacted earth to the left of the tower (although a building that had only two stories probably didn't warrant such a grand name). Most places this far out from the Core had at the most a desultorily-run Customs shed, landing field and small control building, often only manned during daylight hours, while here there were large warehouses in addition to the tower, razor-wire fences and watch-posts. Not that it looked well-used, but it tickled one of Mal's memories.

"I seem to recall there used to be an Alliance camp not far from here back in the day."

Hank's head shot around. "Alliance?"

Mal chucked. "Don't fret. They left pretty much the day the war ended, although there was talk a year or so back of reopening it."

"They haven't, have they?"

"No idea. But there's not much here the Alliance might want. Besides, you were the one scouring the Cortex."

Hank relaxed. "Then no. I found nothing like that. Ithaca seems to be a peaceful sort of place."

"Apart from the shooting folks in the back, you mean."

"Oh, yes," Hank agreed fervently. "Apart from that." He paused a moment then said, "You think he's going to want to go out now? Only asking because it'll be full dark soon."

"Honestly, I'm surprised he ain't up here breathing down your neck."

"I'm glad he wasn't. He makes my shirt wet."

"I've told him not to."

Both men jumped at the sound of River's voice, and turned to see the young woman standing in the doorway.

Mal made play of putting his hand on the scar over his heart. "You tryin' to scare me to death? You wanna be captain that bad?"

"It wouldn't work," she said, stepping inside on her bare feet.

"Good to know."

"I meant there's too many others to get rid of between me and the captaincy. Someone would be bound to notice."

There was a pause.

"You know, sometimes I wonder if she means it," Hank said quietly.

"Sometimes, so do I."

River stuck her tongue out at him.

Mal's eyebrows took on a life of their own. "You're not too big to put over my knee, young lady."

Her face dissolved into a grin. "Thank you, _jia yan_."

Mal swallowed a laugh. "Anyway, you got that big lug of yours locked up someplace?"

"He's reading Caleb a bedtime story."

"You think that'll work?"

"I've got a smoother from the infirmary if it doesn't."

"You dope your husband often?"

"Not overly." She gave a delicate shrug and went on quickly before Hank could make the comment that sat so bright and stupid at the front of his mind. "He won't need it. I shall make sure of that." Playing with a lock of her dark hair she went on, "I have ways of ... persuasion you don't have."

"River ..." Hank complained, putting his hands over his ears. "I don't need to know that."

"I meant the couch."

"Yeah, right."

"Jayne is ... unsettled."

"I can understand that. And it is a bit late to go sightseeing," Mal added, watching the moon dip even lower and the light fade. "Particularly as I for one ain't too enamoured of wandering around a cemetery at night."

"I'll talk to him. Persuade him to sleep on it."

Mal's lips lifted at the corner. "Think he's gonna listen?"

She suddenly sighed deeply, her head drooping a little. "This Indigo was important to him."

"Did Jayne ever tell you about him?"

"No."

"And you didn't look?" Mal asked quietly.

She shook her head. "It didn't come up, and Jayne is much more sensitive to me running barefoot through his thoughts now. It can be ... spiky." She shifted from foot to foot as if she could feel them pricking her.

"I might have to try that myself."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "He will tell us. When he's ready."

"Is that likely to be before or after he kills someone?"

"Before."

Mal crossed his arms. "I'd kinda like to hope so. If he gets himself bound for murder, I'd be more'n a little annoyed."

"I shall tell him." Her chin went up. "He's finished the story."

"Well, better get to your feminine wiles, then."

"Yes, Father." She placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, then was gone.

"You think Jesse's gonna be like her when she grows up?" Hank asked, his head on one side.

"If Jesse brings home a man like Jayne …" Mal paused. "Then I'm gonna leave it up to Frey."

* * *

River must have worked her wiles on her husband, since there was no sign that night of the big man waiting in the slips at the doors. For that matter, nobody seemed anxious to get off next morning either, something Mal was surprised at.

"Don't want to feel the breeze on your face?" he asked, staring at his crew standing well back in the cargo bay.

"Can feel that from here, Cap," Kaylee said, sitting on the metal staircase. "Only have to open the door."

"And I've got things to be getting on with," Simon put in. "The scanner needs recalibrating, and the washer isn't going to empty itself." He was on laundry duty. Again.

Mal's eyes narrowed. "And the rest o'you?"

"Someone needs to mind the ship, sir," Zoe said. "We don't know this planet. It could be prudent."

"Prudent. Right."

"And I've got lessons," Freya added.

"You too, huh?"

River sighed. "What they mean is that this place feels wrong."

Mal looked at his psychic surrogate daughter. "Care to elaborate, _xiao nu_?"

"An itch. Continuous. Irritating. Out of reach." She shifted, rubbing her back against the wall as if it might ease it.

"Hmmn." Mal wasn't about to admit he felt the same way, that he was tempted to join her, but the flash of humour in River's eyes suggested he didn't have to. "Yeah, well, I can't make you get off."

Kaylee looked relieved.

"Didn't used to be like that," Jayne muttered. "Leastways, not that bad. And you don't have to come."

"That ain't in question," Mal said.

"I'll come too," Hank added, then blushed slightly as everyone stared at him. "If you want, that is."

Jayne gazed for a moment, then nodded, just once.

"Okay." Mal clapped his hands together, suddenly mindful of the last time he and his crew had been waiting to disembark, and he offered up a silent prayer that it wasn't going to end as badly. "Looked to me like there was a church not too far from here, on the main road outta town. We can start there."

* * *

The day looked like it was going to be fine, but the night chill still hung in the bushes, lacing the spider's webs with crystal drops.

"What season is it?" Mal asked, walking briskly to ward off the shivers.

"Autumn," Hank supplied. "Nice and crisp."

"Your wife made you put your long underwear on?"

"Yep."

"Me too."

"Me three," Jayne admitted, grumbling. "Even a man's long johns ain't his own anymore."

"You wouldn't want it any other way," Mal laughed.

Jayne shrugged. "Nah. Guess not."

Hank went to make a possibly painful comment, but Mal stopped him with a glance. As tight as the ex-mercenary was wound, it would only take a wrong word for him to snap.

They walked in silence for maybe ten minutes, the sun creeping up and slowly warming the air.

"There," Jayne pointed.

Some hundred yards along was a break in the wall to their left, a metal arch above proclaiming _Cason's Point Cemetery_.

The churchyard was big, looking like it was originally half the size and expanded when folks realised Cason's Point had a future. Traces of the original wall remained, rougher than the current perimeter boundary. The white clapboard church also looked like it had been added to, a bell tower tacked on one end, and extra wings down the sides to make it look like a cross from above. A stained glass window in one wall winked colourfully at them in the morning light.

Jayne stalked between the rows of neat headstones, just like the houses getting more and more fancy as they got closer to the church, until the final few were carved stone crypts with doors on them, all inscribed with texts from the Bible and adorned with disapproving angels.

He got to the end of one row, made a noise in his throat like an elephant snorting, and started up the next.

"You know, the church my Gran went to had different sections," Hank said quietly. "Rich people at one end, poor at the other."

"You're suggesting Indigo ain't good enough to lie with the gentry?" Mal teased, keeping his own voice low.

"Gunhand, shot in the back … yeah, I'd say Cason's Point ain't likely to put him in the ground anywhere close to the upstanding citizens of Ithaca." He glanced around, seeing a small hut off to one side, a thin trail of grey smoke drifting from its single chimney. "I'll go ask, shall I?"

Mal nodded. "Good idea. Else Jayne's likely to start getting fractious."

A mental image in his mind of the big man doing just such a thing, Hank ambled towards the hut, and as he got closer he caught the distinctive smell of frying bacon, warring with the odour of decaying vegetation. The latter he traced to the compost heap piled high against the side of the small building, steaming gently, a mixture of dead flowers, long browned wreaths, and apparently tea leaves. The former was as easy. As he reached the open door he could see a man inside, tending a frying pan.

"'Scuse me?" Hank said, telling his taste buds to stop salivating. "Sir?"

The man, stooped from years of back-breaking work digging the last resting places of his neighbours, expertly flipped the bacon over, then glanced up. "What'd'ja want?"

"I was looking for a grave."

The man chuckled, sounding like he wasn't far from one himself. "Got a lot to choose from, young feller. You buyin'?"

"No. No," Hank repeated quickly, feeling odd that he could look like he was wanting to purchase a plot. "Uh … do I look like I need one?"

"Nope. But business is business." The old man chuckled. "Son, I've put folks in th'earth from less'n a day old until they were near double their three score and ten. It ain't never too early to start thinking about it, making arrangements."

"You don't happen to sell insurance as well?" Hank joked feebly.

"Nope. That'd be my brother."

Not sure if the man was just going along, Hank simply said, "Right."

"Well, if you ain't interested in buying, then you must be visiting."

"Um, yes. That's why I … we can't find my friend's grave. Well, the friend of a friend, actually. Although technically –"

The old man held up his ancient metal spatula. "Name?"

"Who, the friend?"

"If'n he's the dead one."

"Right. MacCready. Indigo MacCready."

The old man's eyes narrowed. "You kin?"

"Not personally, no. Why?"

"Just askin'. Only if you was, I could do you a good deal on upkeep."

"Upkeep?"

"Of the grave. Keeping the grass down. Making sure any flowers had water. That kinda thing."

"I'll … pass it along."

"You do that." The man spat, with considerable accuracy, into a brass spittoon by his cot bed. "And he's down near Potter's Field."

"Where?"

The caretaker pointed with his spatula. "Far corner. Go outta here and around to the left."

He spat again and Hank felt his hunger vanish. "Right. Thanks." The frying pan spit, sending a blue flame up into the rafters, and he remarked as he backed out of the door, "Your bacon's burning."

"S'okay. I like mine cremated." The old man cackled, sounding like pebbles down one of his own gravestones.

* * *

With the aid of Hank's directions, they soon found the right area, at the back in the corner, away from everyone else.

"Ain't right," Jayne grumbled.

"When a man's dead he's dead. Isn't that what you've always said?" Mal asked.

"Yeah. Well, maybe," the ex-merc quickly amended. "Whatever, it ain't respectful." He was walking quickly, scanning the simple markers.

"At least he isn't with them." Mal nodded to a small enclosure further on. This section had no stones or crosses at the simple mounds of earth. Potter's Field, where those with nobody to mark their passing were buried.

"Nope. Least he had a name."

"Jayne," Hank called. "Over here. And I think you're gonna be surprised."

They hurried to join him.

"What?" Mal wanted to know.

"Look." Hank pointed.

"Damn," Jayne muttered.

"Looks like maybe someone was respectful after all," Mal said softly.

"Yeah."

It was a headstone, far more substantial than any of the others dotted around. It didn't say much – just a date some four months previously, and three deeply carved words.

_Indigo MacCready. Missed._

Hank glanced at Mal, who shrugged.

Jayne, on the other hand, chuckled unexpectedly. "Figure I know who put this here," he said. "Guess she's still around."

"She?" Mal looked at his crew member.

"She always did have something of a warped sense of humour. 'Missed'. Yeah. Like they did." He strode back towards the entrance.

Mal and Hank shared a glance, then followed the ex-merc out towards the town.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun was higher by the time they reached the more populated area of town, but it was still at an angle where it hit the windows and made them squint.

"You know where you're going?" Mal asked.

"Yep. Just along here." Jayne was striding along, and anyone already about was keeping well out of his way. Suddenly he stopped, and Hank almost walked into him. "Here."

They faced the building.

_Adelaide's_. The sign above the saloon doors appeared freshly painted, but the gold lettering etched on the large windows was scratched and rubbed by countless shoulders and elbows passing by.

"This it?" Mal asked.

"Yeah." Jayne looked up. "Maybe an extra storey's been added, but it ain't changed that much."

"And Adelaide?"

"Piss poor beer but good company. And she always looked after her girls. Unlike some."

"You're talking like you know, Jayne," Mal pointed out.

"I was around for a long time afore River even got born, Mal. And I was no nun."

"Saint, Jayne."

The big man grinned. "Never thought you'd use both them words in the same sentence, Mal."

"And you won't again."

Jayne shrugged the water off this particular duck's back, and pushed open the swing doors.

The familiar smell of any saloon anywhere outside the Core assailed their nostrils. Beer, both stale and fresh, with a spirit chaser, body odour, cheap perfume and middling aftershave, along with frying food ...

Jayne took a deep, appreciative breath. "Ah," he exhaled on a sigh.

"How come it smells like sawdust even though there ain't any on the floor?" Hank wanted to know, studiously keeping his eyes away from the Tall Card game set up ready in the corner.

"Fresh cut wood," Mal supplied, memories of days back on the ranch helping the hands saw fence posts as clear and clean in his mind as the scent. "Recent building."

Indeed, as their eyes adjusted to the slight gloom they could see a grander staircase than the place truly warranted twisting on itself and heading up towards the upper level. Padded couches at the base were conspicuously empty.

"Too early," Jayne put in, seeing Mal's gaze. "Business don't get going here until after noon. They're probably still getting their beauty sleep."

"Or letting drops wear off," Hank murmured, seeing a tiny hypo abandoned and thrust into the earth filling one of the huge planters dotted along the walls.

"Addie used to keep a good house." Jayne sounded disappointed.

"It's been a while," Mal said. "Things have probably changed."

"Not that much." It was a female voice, and they all turned as one. "Jayne Cobb. As I live and breathe."

In front of them was a woman, not more than five feet and a breath high. She was dressed in a pale green, expensively cut gown which thrust her ample chest upwards, cinched her in at the waist, and flowed over lavish hips. It stopped at her knees, showing loose satin pants brushing a pair of surprisingly comfortable looking slippers. Her hair was a dark brunette mess, piled haphazardly on top of her head, giving her an extra three or four inches.

Jayne smiled. "Addie."

The little woman hugged him tight. "I thought you was dead."

"Nope. Not dead." Jayne was about as embarrassed as he ever got, and tried to extricate himself from her grasp.

Addie took the hint and stood back. "I reckon you're not. Look healthier than the last time I saw you."

Jayne almost squirmed. This woman had always reminded him of his mother, despite their totally different professions, and he felt like an eight year old caught out doing something he shouldn't. "Yeah, well ... times are better."

Mal raised an eyebrow, although this was his gunhand all over. Tough jobs and tougher times had given him a somewhat peculiar outlook on life, all too well aware it might be at the end of someone's scope at any time. Better to be careful than call down bad luck.

Maybe that was why the big man was always amazed at his good fortune in finding River. Mind, it had taken the young psychic a long while before she'd gotten him in a position where he could catch her.

"Looks it," Addie was saying. She eyed up the others with him. "And who are these two fine, upstanding fellers?"

"Uh, this here's Malcolm Reynolds," Jayne said. "He's the cap of the boat I'm on."

"Nice to see you don't mind slumming it with your crew," Addie said, her hands on her hips.

"I wouldn't say I was slumming anything, ma'am." Mal touched his temple in a half-salute.

"Now don't you 'ma'am' me. Makes me feel like I'm old enough to be your grandma."

"Never knew my gran," Mal admitted. "But somehow I get the notion she was never like you."

Addie laughed, a rich sound that rolled out of her. "Got that right. Nobody else like me in the entire 'verse." She held out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Captain."

They shook.

"Mal."

She smiled. "Okay, Mal."

Jayne cleared his throat. "And this here is Hank. He's the pilot."

Hank grinned. "Miss Addie."

"Bet you're a heartbreaker," the saloon owner surmised, gazing into his grey eyes.

"Me? Nope. Got me a wife and son," Hank said proudly.

"Guess that means you won't be partaking of any of my girls?"

"No. Sorry."

"No never mind. Jayne here has always had more'n his fair share of an appetite."

Now Jayne really did look uncomfortable. "Not no more," he muttered.

Addie's eyebrows raised. "You? What happened? You got religion or some such?" She glanced down towards his crotch. "Or did you maybe get shot someplace unfortunate?"

Jayne resisted the urge to place his hands protectively over his groin. "No. Not that at all. It's just ..." His face softened. "Hank ain't the only married man on board Serenity."

Now the woman's jaw literally dropped. "You're joshing me."

"Afraid not, Miss Addie," Mal confirmed.

"Well, that surely takes the breath away."

"Got me a son, too. Caleb," Jayne added, his chest expanding with pride.

"I'm beginning to think black is white and up is down." Addie fanned herself. "You know, after that little revelation, I need me a drink." She headed towards the bar. "Join me?"

"Bit too early in the day for me, Miss Addie," Hank said. "Wouldn't mind if there's a coffee going, though."

"No problem. Charlie!" The last was shouted.

A tall thin man with a shock of pure white hair stuck his head around a green baize door. "What?"

"Coffee."

"There's none on the go."

"Then make some."

The man scowled. "You think I've not got enough to do?"

"Then you stop answering back and get on with it."

Charlie muttered something and disappeared back into his domain like a tortoise into his shell.

"If it's a hassle, I'm fine," Hank said.

"Not that at all. And don't take any notice of him," Addie said, waving away his objections. "Charlie's always like that. I think it's in his genes." She smiled as she slid behind the long bar. "Jayne?"

"I'll risk a beer."

"Mal?"

"Okay. But a small one. If I go back smelling of booze, my own wife is gonna have something to say."

As she drew a jug from the pump, Addie shook her head. "So not a one of you is available. Just my luck."

Mal chuckled. "Miss Addie, I somehow get the impression you ain't lacking for male company."

"Got that right." She twinkled at him. "You carry the mugs, and we'll go park ourselves." She led them to the table by the stairs, settling herself into what was probably her normal seat, considering it was painted gold and had tasselled cushions. She held the jug up. "Shall I be mother?"

"Sure," Mal said, smiling.

Addie poured three mugs. "Cheers."

"Good health."

Jayne was the first to take a long pull on his, then stared. "Addie … what the hell have you done?"

Mal, expecting trouble, tensed.

Addie, on the other hand, threw her head back and laughed. "Knew you'd like it, Jayne."

"Like it?" The big man shook his head and stared into his drink. "Addie, it's gorram wonderful."

Mal removed his hand from his gun and picked up his own beer. "This I have to try. Particularly considering I never thought Jayne here had any taste buds left." He filled his mouth, letting it roll around his back teeth before swallowing. "Shit."

"Exactly," Jayne agreed. He looked back at Addie. "Where'd you get this nectar?"

"Brewed it myself," the woman announced. "Got a whole load of equipment from a feller that was going out of business, and tried a few different recipes. This one was the best."

"You don't say." Jayne sipped his beer again. "Damn it, Addie. This is too good for the likes of me. I just want something that'll get me drunk in the quickest time possible. This is …" His voice faded.

"Nectar," Mal finished.

"Yeah."

Hank looked between the two men, wondering if maybe he had made the wrong choice.

"Well, if you want it, I think there's still a barrel of the old stuff down in the cellar," Addie suggested, then laughed again at the expressions on their faces. "Okay. I was thinking of pouring it down the drains anyway, 'cept it'd probably dissolve 'em."

"I'm surprised it's stayed in the barrel," Jayne said, taking a bigger mouthful and enjoying it not burning the inside of his throat.

"Not for lack of trying. There's been nights lately I'm sure I can hear it trying to get out." She leaned forward, showing a lot of cleavage. "Although I'm kinda concerned you've showed your face around here right now." She stopped as the doors swung open and three men entered. "Gents," she called. "What can we do for yah? It's a mite early if you're looking for company."

"Heard tell you provide a good breakfast," one of them said, his face tanned like leather, a scar on his chin.

"That we do. Take a pew and I'll just get ..."

At that moment Charlie reappeared through the baize door, carrying a small tray with a coffee pot, a delicate china cup and saucer, and a plate with half a dozen fancy cookies on. He placed it in front of Hank. "Here you go."

"Thanks." The pilot stared.

Addie flicked her fingers. "Charlie, those fellers want breakfast. Take their order."

"Charge?"

Addie glanced at the men. "Top."

Charlie nodded. "Got it." He walked towards the other table at the far side of the saloon.

"Top?" Mal inquired.

She gazed at him, her pale brown eyes considering. Then she said quietly, making sure her voice didn't carry, "I go by what they look like. They're strangers, but they look like they're not without coin. They can pay top rate."

"You don't know 'em?"

"Nope."

"Do you get many strangers in here?"

"Not really. Occasionally off the ships that land, but there's not much to bring 'em here. Why?"

"Nothing." He glanced at Hank, who shook his head fractionally, confirming Mal's thought that there hadn't been another ship at dock when they'd landed. "Just exercising my right to be curious." He pulled up a smile.

Hank, in the meantime, was pouring coffee into the cup and wondering if he was going to be able to handle it without dropping it. He wasn't exactly known for his manual dexterity, at least when it wasn't anything to do with flying. "Gorramit," he muttered as his tried to pick it up by the handle, and had to give up. In the end he took hold of it under the rim.

Addie laughed, successfully diverted. "That's Charlie," she said. "Always one for manners, even when he doesn't have any himself. Do you want him to get you a mug?"

"No, no," Hank said quickly. "This'll be fine." He sipped. "And it's damn good." He picked up one of the biscuits, nibbling the edge.

Mal was enjoying the show, but he could see Jayne was almost vibrating with tension. "As fun as this is, it ain't why we're here."

"Indigo?"

Jayne nodded tightly. "Indigo. Yeah. You bought the headstone?"

"I did," Addie confirmed. "Couldn't get him in the high end of the churchyard, but at least I wasn't going to see him planted in Potter's Field."

"You tell me how much and I'll pay you back."

"No." She shook her head firmly. "He was my friend too. It's the least I could do for him."

"What happened?"

Addie didn't speak for a moment, just sipped on her whisky. Then she took a deep breath, her breasts rising in her low cut dress. "What always happens," she said quietly.

Jayne put his hand into his pocket and withdrew the green slip of paper, somewhat crumpled now. "This right?"

She flattened it, reading the few words. "Pretty much."

"Tell me."

"He'd been visiting. It was early, and he was heading back to the hotel where he had a room. Maybe he was tired, or maybe just distracted. But he ... someone shot him."

"In the back."

"Yeah." Addie stared into her drink and sighed. "Yeah. It's true. I was the first one there, found him lying in the dust, bleeding his life out. Me and Harrison. No doubt about it."

Jayne seemed calm, somewhat too calm to Mal's liking.

"What did the Feds say?" the ex-merc asked.

"Now you know they weren't involved. It was never gonna happen that way. Best we could do was take him to Doc Thorson, but it was too late before we even got half way. Harrison arranged the funeral, and I paid." She went on, "I never knew Harrison sent you that damn green slip. If I had, I'd've told him to tear it up, burn it, anything other than post it out. And I thought you'd have more sense."

"Nope," Jayne admitted. "No sense. None at all." There was a tense silence, then Jayne spoke again. "Who was it, Addie?"

"No, Jayne. You start on this revenge thing and old Hampton'll be digging another grave."

"He was my friend."

"Mine too, and I don't intend losing another." Her face was set, and she put her hand on top of his. "Leave it, honey."

The big man's fists clenched.

"Jayne," Mal said warningly.

"It's okay, Mal." He consciously relaxed his hands. "I won't be making a ruckus." However, there was a huge, red, neon-pulsating 'yet' hanging above his head.

"That's ... shiny."

"What about his stuff?" Jayne looked back at Addie. "You got it here?"

She let go of him and sat back. "No. Mallory took it."

"Mallory?"

"Yeah. You remember her. She was –"

"I know who she was."

"Well, she's got everything."

"How come?"

"I told you Indigo'd been visiting." Addie shrugged, her soft body moving quite significantly. "Well, that was with Mallory."

"_Run tse duh fuo-tzoo." _Jayne drained the rest of his mug. "Okay. Where'll I find her?" He pushed his chair back with a squeal and stood up.

Addie leaned forward. "Don't. You go looking for trouble and it'll find you for sure."

"Trouble? I was just thinking of paying my respects."

"You know, I'm not sure how come I don't believe you."

"Addie, Indigo's the only reason I didn't get dead those first few years. I owe him."

She gazed at him then shrugged again. "Hell, you're gonna find out one way or another. She's got a place outside town. Take the main road east, then there's a turn a coupla miles along that'll take you onto a track into the hills. It's about three miles up that."

"A morning stroll."

"Best you hire some horses. It's dry today, but the last few days it's been raining. It'll be like a swamp out there."

"Shiny. And I expect I'll be seeing you before we leave."

"I'll be here."

He strode for the doors, but as he reached them they opened, two men sauntering through, and he felt his heart sink. Damn. The last people he never wanted to see again. He put his head down and went to move to one side, let them through, but the expressions on their faces suggested they recognised him as much as he did them.

"You smell something, Wes?" the shorter of the two asked, sniffing the air prominently. "Like someone's trod in something and not wiped it off their boot?"

"Now you mention it … yeah." The other man waved his hand in front of his face. "Sure stinks, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. Kinda like … betrayal."

"Jayne …" Mal said quietly, warning his mercenary.

"S'okay, Mal," the big man said. "I ain't afraid of 'em."

"That's not exactly my worry." Mal hooked his thumb into his gunbelt, ready for anything that might occur but attempted to defuse the situation. "Ain't you gonna introduce us?"

"It don't make no never mind, but this here's Brad Tanner, and his brother Wes," Jayne growled.

"Old friends," Wesley Tanner said, smiling. He was the younger and handsomer of the pair by far, a pretty face with deep blue, almost violet eyes, obviously happy to use it to get what he wanted.

"Not what I recall."

"Well, well. Jayne Cobb." Brad, on the other hand, hadn't got any prettier. The burn on his neck never had healed properly, leaving a puckered and ugly scar. "Long time no see."

"Seems like longer."

"You got any warrants outstanding on you at the moment?" Wes asked.

"Not that I know of," Jayne said, surprisingly calmly.

Mal moved his hand a little closer to his gun. This was a Jayne he knew, recognised, and violence could be very quick.

"That's a pity. Sheriff McCoy could do with an up to his arrest rate. Seeing as it's an election year."

"He still in your pocket?"

Hank turned a gasp into a cough.

Wes laughed, showing even white teeth. "Are you suggesting we've bought the law?"

"Don't recall me making a suggestion."

Again the laugh, but with little honest humour in it. "And you are?" Wes asked, turning to Mal.

"Captain Reynolds. Jayne's on my crew."

"On purpose?" This time both Tanners chuckled.

"Pretty much."

"Yeah, well, you ever decide you want someone other than a low-down, dirty, thieving piece of _goushi_, you come see me," Wes said.

Jayne lifted his head, as if scenting the wind, and his hand flexed slightly.

"If I ever decide," Mal said quickly before the big man could say anything.

For a long moment things could have gone either way, but eventually Wesley Tanner smiled again. "Nice talking with you."

"Mmn."

He stepped past the trio, heading for the table in the corner and the three men who were just being served their breakfast by Charlie. "Addie," he called towards the woman behind the bar, "we'll be having two more platefuls."

"Coming up," she said, even if the look on her face was more sour than sweet.

Jayne nodded at her, then hurried outside, taking a deep breath of cool, clean air.

Mal, followed closely by Hank, joined him on the sidewalk. "Well?"

"Well ... what?"

"You wanna explain?"

"Not really."

"I take it you ain't exactly welcome around here."

"It was a long time ago. And I'd'a thought I wasn't important enough to remember."

"They don't seem to feel that way." Mal waited, his patience thinning. "Jayne, you need to tell me."

"No. I don't."

Studying his ex-merc, Mal could see the determination like a red blanket around his shoulders. "Fine," he ground out. "But you're gonna have to at some point."

"You didn't have to come."

Hank, wondering if the potential fight inside was going to turn into a real one outside, stepped off the sidewalk. "How about we get those horses?" he began to say, then had to jump back up next to them as a groundcar almost took him out. "What the hell ...?"

"Gorram."

Mal made sure his pilot wasn't likely to have a heart attack there and then, before saying, "Jayne?"

The big man was staring after the car, one of the new models, all gleaming black paint and polished chrome, which had stopped further along the street. "I'd hoped she was dead."

"Who?" Mal glared at the woman being assisted from the vehicle by the driver, attired in dark blue livery, a peaked cap set firmly on his head.

"Mrs Tanner. Medea Tanner."

"Who?"

"The Tanner boys' mother." Jayne shook his head. "Runs pretty much everything in Cason's Point."

Medea Tanner, looking exactly the same as he remembered. Which was a pity, because sometimes during the long nights he'd entertained himself with the notion that the old woman was long buried. When she was young she was probably something of a looker, and she still retained the upright bearing, her figure only marginally thicker. Her hair was very pale blonde, more by design than luck, and caught in an elaborate roll at the nape of her neck, while in her hands was a purse that looked to be made of rare yellow alligator skin, and therefore hideously expensive. She didn't even glance their way as she walked elegantly into one of the row of shops.

"I take it she ain't a friend of yours either?"

"Well, only if the last thing a friend said to me was that she was gonna have my hide stripped and hung on her fence, along with my manparts."

"Ah, no, then."

"Pretty much." He adjusted his gunbelt, looking like he'd rather use it. "I'll go get us those horses."

Mal waited until he was out of earshot before saying to Hank, "Your heart rate back to normal, yet?"

"Not sure. Give me a week or two and I'll let you know."

"Well, soon as you're ready, head on back to the ship, let Zoe know what's going on. Get her to see what supplies we need and break out the fuel money."

"We're not leaving?"

"Not unless I wanna leave Jayne behind."

"Then I want to come with you."

"No, I want you around Serenity." He glanced left then right. "See what you can find out. Get River to help you."

"Find out about what?"

"This place. What makes it tick."

"I didn't think we'd be staying that long."

"Me neither. But it doesn't hurt to have a back-up plan."

Hank tried hard not to say the words that were falling over each other behind his teeth, and for once succeeded. "Anything in particular?"

"Well, the fellers those two Tanner brothers met. I thought one of 'em looked familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it. 'Cept it's just clicked."

"And?"

"We never met, but I did a deal on Calliope one time, and he was making a ruckus. My contact told me who he was."

"Mal, you're starting to get on my –"

"He's a slaver."

Hank stared. "What?"

"You keep this between us," Mal warned. "There ain't much that man hates above Reavers, and it's probably all River's influence anyway, but I don't want him getting all anxious over it – there'd be no telling his reaction if he knew."


	7. Chapter 7

The ride out of town was surprisingly pleasant, despite the fact that Jayne hadn't said more than a couple of words. Although that could have been a contributing factor to the enjoyment, Mal still attempted to engage his gunhand.

"I surely like this time of year," he said, sitting easily in the saddle, letting the horse do all the work. "The leaves turning all red and gold, the clean air ..." He breathed in deeply. "Makes a man glad to be alive."

"Huh."

Mal had been sure that last comment would elicit something, even if it was along the lines of 'least someone is'. Still, it was worth one last try. "Jayne, you know there's a new thing doing the rounds. It's all the rage. 'Parrently even the high ups on Osiris are getting in on the act. 'Scalled 'conversation'."

"Ain't got nothing I wanna conversate about."

"No?" Mal spurred his horse forward so they were side by side. "How 'bout this Mallory?"

"What about her?"

"How come you went pale when Addie back there mentioned her?"

"Did not."

"Believe me, Jayne, I was on this side. And you did." He squinted into the sun, gauging the time. "She someone River needs to worry about?"

"River ain't worried. Mallory's ... just a girl."

"Indigo's girl?"

"Not that I was aware of."

"Jayne, talk to me. Else when we get back to Serenity I'll set Frey on you."

"Could be fun."

"Jayne ..."

A playful wind caught up a sheaf of leaves and made them dance, twirling them along the ground in a tarantella before dropping them exhausted back to the earth, and it took that long before the big man responded.

"She was a whore. Mallory, I mean."

Mal was surprised at the matter-of-factness in Jayne's tone. "You mean –"

"What I said. A working girl."

"At Addie's?"

"Nope. Least not at first. If'n that'd be the case she wouldn't have had the scars."

Mal's good humour dimmed. "She got beat up?"

"Off and on. Worked out of Vic Carroway's place, 'til I ... had a word."

No matter what Jayne had been, and still was to the rest of the 'verse, he'd always treated the women he bedded – if not with respect – then at least as human beings, something he'd never seen as atypical in his line of work.

Mal's eyebrow twitched. "Was he still alive when you'd done?"

"Well, let's just say it took him a while to walk straight again. And Mallory headed to Addie's with most of the cash she'd earned."

"Maybe River's right, and you are a good man."

"Nah. Mean bastard. When I first met yah, if you hadn't offered me full run o' the kitchen you'd be pushing up the weeds these past years."

"I think maybe I got the best end of the deal."

"You're still alive, ain't you?"

Odd thing was, Mal wasn't lying. It had taken a long while, he admitted, if only to himself, since there were times, particularly after the first hospital heist on Ariel, when he'd honestly thought he was going to space his merc, and more than a dozen times since. But something always stopped him, and for the rest of his life he was going to wonder what it had been.

"You made it sound like you were here for only a few days," he pointed out. "Except these folks seem to know you just a bit too much for that."

"Yeah, well …" Jayne didn't get embarrassed, but this was as close as made no difference. "Maybe it was only a week the second time. The first ... could've been more like six months." He stared into the distance. "I … er … I…" He mumbled something.

"What?"

The big man's head came around and he said, perhaps a little too loudly, "I broke my leg, okay?!"

Mal had to consciously stop himself from grinning. "You?" he still had to say. "Jayne Cobb?"

"Yeah, me, Jayne Cobb." The man himself sighed. "It can happen to anyone. And there weren't no fancy bone mender around, either, at least not for the likes of me."

Mal was still entertaining himself with the image of the big ex-mercenary beside him in a full leg cast and on crutches. _Diyu_, but he'd have been hell to live with. "How'd you do it?"

"I … fell off a horse."

That was it. Mal couldn't help himself, and he laughed out loud. "You …_fell_ off a horse?"

"Your hearing going or something?" Jayne asked belligerently.

"Just not sure the words coming in my ears are the same as're leaving your mouth."

"They are. You wanna make something of it?"

Mal held a hand up in surrender. "No, no. Just … you _fell_ off a horse?"

"Don't you be so high and mighty about it," Jayne growled. "Seeing as how you're a bullet magnet yourself."

"Not talking about me." Mal shook his head. "And how did this amazing happenstance occur?"

Jayne sighed. "Because I'm stupid."

For a change Mal didn't take the opening, instead merely saying, "Okay, now you've whetted my appetite, you'd better go on."

For a moment the big guy just glared at him, then sighed again. "First time, me and Indigo ... we found ourselves here. It was the end of the war, and ... hell, we just ended up in Cason's Point. Wasn't meant to be anything over and above a few days, waiting for a transport off this rock, but ... truth is we got drunk."

"You, Jayne?"

"Yeah. Me. Me and Indigo. Anyways, some fellers had been talking in the bar about how the Alliance had pulled out of the camp in the hills, and we decided to go take a look see. Just for something to do, you know?"

"I know."

"Then when we sobered we figured why not, since there wasn't much else to occupy us."

"Seems ... reasonable."

"And anyway, we thought maybe we'd see if they left anything worth selling behind." He chuckled. "Surprised we found the place, considering we were partaking of liquor all the way, but find it we did." Jayne lifted up in the saddle, half-turning, staring towards the horizon. "Not far from here, as it happens. Few miles." He sat back, shaking his head. "Like a gorram ghost town, it was. The buildings were all still there, but it'd been pretty much stripped."

"Folks ain't gonna let good building material go to waste."

Jayne continued as if Mal hadn't spoken. "'Cept me and Indigo stumbled on something worth more'n a turd." He grinned. "Stash of weapons. We never could decide if they'd been hidden deliberate, or just forgotten about, but they were pretty fancy. We collected what we could carry, hid the rest in a shallow cave, and headed back towards town."

"Jayne, you ever heard of a story getting to a point?" Mal asked.

"That was it. We were still mostly hungover, and ..." He shook his head. "Mal, you ever tell the others and I'll..."

"My lips are sealed."

"Well, I guess maybe I was more drunk'n I'd thought, and I wasn't looking where I was going, and ... well, to cut a long story short –"

"I wish you would."

"– I was in the air, and the ground was coming up awful fast. Horse got spooked by a snake, least that's what I figure it was considering what was caught up in the shoe after he'd finished stomping it. Anyway, next thing I knew I was staring up at the sky, wondering how come I couldn't breathe."

"Knocks the air outta you," Mal agreed, remembering a similar incident back on Shadow. At least he'd got up – eventually – unhurt apart from his pride.

"Hell, yeah." Jayne steered the horse around a patch of sodden earth. "Anyhows, I'm on the ground, and thinking it's my last moment, then I manage to get a lungful in. Then I tried to get up." He chuckled. "Can't say the pain was worse'n getting shot, but close. And I damn near passed out when I saw the bone sticking outta my leg, through my pants."

Mal winced in sympathy. "What happened?"

"I was lucky. The luck o'the Cobbs. And Indigo. When he stopped laughing – and believe me, that took a long while – he stopped the bleeding, managed to get me back on the horse and into town. Shit, considering the ribbing he gave me after that, I sometimes wonder if maybe I'd've been better off breaking my neck." He sighed again. "Anyways, Indigo stayed with me, since he figured I couldn't be relied on to take care o'myself, and I spent the next few months in Addie's back room, learning to walk again."

"So where does all this fit in with Vera, that ticket and the like?"

"Well, with me laid up like I was, Indigo had to do the donkey work. He brought the guns back in, few at a time, sold 'em where he could. Paid for the doc, the room ... everything."

"He sounds like a good friend."

"Yeah. Prob'ly the only one I ever had." _Until Serenity_ was the unspoken addition.

"Go on."

"Anyway, it was after I was back on my feet we did like I said, decided to pawn the last guns and asked Harrison to keep the tickets. Next day we each took a different ship, and that was that."

"Except ..." Mal prompted.

"Huh?"

"There has to be more."

This time Jayne looked about as guilty as it was in his power to appear. "Sorta."

"Well, you can't just tell half a story."

Jayne stared down at the pommel of his saddle, then nodded slowly. "Guess maybe you should know. It'll only confirm how you always looked on me, but ... yeah."

Mal waited, and was about to urge the big man again, when he started speaking, this time quietly, evenly, as if it was painful to get it off his chest.

"Year before I joined your boat, I was back on Ithaca. Things weren't going so well, and I was down to my last brass nickel. Indigo was here ... always wondered if he came back regular, but never did ask. Anyway, the Tanners were putting a job together, and I leaped at the chance."

"The Tanners ... the fellers we just met?"

"Yeah. Them and their brother, Troy. Medea Tanner always kept 'em tied to her apron strings, doling out cash like it was rarer than rubies, and they were always looking to make some extra. And there are mines out in the badlands, and the miners got paid in cash, not credit." Now Jayne had got down to the nitty gritty, he seemed unable to stop. "Should'a been easy pickings, 'cept someone couldn't keep his mouth shut. We got there, got set up, waited all day in the gorram sun, then just as the payroll came past I got this feeling on the back of my neck like someone was staring down a scope at me. I hung back, maybe just half a second, but it was enough. Turns out the payroll was a trap, and half a platoon of Alliance purplebellies were inside, just waiting for us." He grunted. "I managed to get away, 'though most of the others didn't, and rode hell for leather for town."

"How come I got the notion there's more to it than that?"

Jayne shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. "Mal, it's ancient history."

"Not that ancient. And I figure we've got enough time."

Jayne sighed. "Fine. Just ... don't go telling the others, okay?"

"Why? What did you do?"

"What I said about someone telling the Feds ... I maybe wasn't as truthful as I could've been."

Realisation burst like a sunrise. "You mean it was you."

"Yeah."

Mal wondered why he was surprised. He'd known what Jayne was when he took the mercenary on, but maybe the fact that he'd changed coloured everything. "Best you finish, then."

Jayne nodded slowly. "Well, like I said, I was broke. Indigo tried to lend me some cash, give me a start again, but I ... I don't know why, Mal, but I said no. Maybe I was prideful, I don't know. He said I was crazy getting mixed up with the Tanners at all, but I knew it was gonna be a good pay day. 'Cept I was greedy."

"You sold 'em out."

"Seemed easy. The local Fed station was still manned then, and all I had to do was stroll in the evening before, give 'em the info and they gave me a wad of change. A'course, I told 'em the job was an hour later than was planned."

Mal wondered, not for the first time, if being psychic was catching, because he knew what was coming next. "You thought you could get your share of the take first."

"Yeah." He chuckled unexpectedly. "Only the Feds maybe didn't trust me."

"They set their own trap."

"Yeah."

Mal sighed. "Jayne, you know damn well you can't trust the Alliance."

"I know, Mal. Maybe it takes a long time to get into my skull." They both knew he was talking about Ariel.

"So what happened?"

"One of the fellers who got away must've reported back to the Tanners. I'm packin' my stuff fast as I can when they burst in. I managed to keep 'em occupied, tossed the oil lamp at 'em and jumped outta the window. Only there were four more outside."

"Difficult."

"Yeah. If Indigo hadn't been hanging around ..."

"Did they know? That you sold them out?"

"I don't think they knew for sure, but they didn't want to take any chances. And maybe they figured they could get me to talk."

A small number of buildings were coming into view, and Mal knew Jayne was likely to clam up as soon as he got off the horse. "I'm guessing the guy you burned was Brad Tanner."

"Yeah. You saw the scar. Wes 'pparently put him out 'fore he could go up like a candle."

"No wonder they hate you."

"Riv says time heals all wounds, 'cept I figure maybe she's wrong here." He took a deep breath, feeling the cold air filling his lungs. "Anyways, between us we managed to kill the others, and Indigo gave me their guns, put me on a transport and told me to not come back."

For the time it took them to reach the rough fence around the property Mal was silent, wondering again at the alterations that that been wrought in the man next to him. Truth was, if he hadn't changed, Mal was sure he'd probably have had to put a bullet in him himself. Finally he said, "Yeah, well, I guess it's all in the past."

If Jayne could have sighed any deeper it would probably have rattled the mountains. "Mal, I'd'a thought the same, but here we are."

Mal pulled up his horse. "Jayne, you say the word and we go. Right now. Turn around and head back to town. Hank'll have Serenity warmed over and we can be gone 'fore the sun goes down."

Jayne's chin dropped to his chest, and he seemed to be seriously considering the offer, then he shook his head. "Nah." He looked at his captain. "Indigo saved my life more times'n I wanna count. If I can't find out who killed him ... well, I weren't his friend."

"Okay." Mal kicked his heels gently into the flanks of his mount. "Then maybe we should be getting on with it."

"Yeah." Jayne spurred his horse into a walk. "And ... thanks, Mal."

"For what?"

"Just ... thanks."

"Yeah, well ..." Mal nodded forwards. "Looks like someone's home."

In front of them, at the door to the small farmhouse, a woman had come out to see who the visitors were, her arm above her head to shield her eyes from the watery autumn sunshine.

"Mallory," Jayne said quietly. "Mal, you wanna ..." He turned in the saddle to glance at his captain.

"You want me to stay outside?"

"For a while. It's been a long gorram time since I saw Mallory, and if she's on her own out here ..." The big man's voice died away.

"It's okay. I understand." Mal dismounted, tying his horse to the fencepost. "Shout if you want me."

Jayne almost smiled. "Yeah." Urging his horse towards the small farmhouse, he kept his hands well away from the weapons at his waist.

The woman had taken a step back, her hands clasped in front of her now, what looked like a tea towel pressed against her breasts. Then her expression changed. Her mouth opened, closed, then she finally managed to get out, "Jayne?"

He nodded, swinging his leg over the horse's head and dropping to the ground. "Hey, Mallory."

"It's been a long time."

"Could say that," Jayne said, chuckling a little as he studied her.

She was pretty much as he remembered, although her long blonde hair was caught up in a messy bun, a mass of loose curls around her ears. As he stepped forward, though, he could see fine lines at the corner of her eyes, and her figure was sleeker, less buxom than before. Still, it had been years, more'n a decade since they'd last spoken, and he was sure he'd changed too.

"What the _diyu_ are you doing here?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Aw, come on. You know why."

"He wouldn't want you here."

"Yeah, well, that ain't up to him. Not no more."

"And you're still an idiot."

He shrugged, a wry smile gracing his strong features. "Maybe I ain't changed as much as I thought." He looked past her into the dark rectangle of the doorway. "So ... you gonna make me stand out here? Or are you gonna be hospitable?"

"I don't think we've got anything to say to each other, do you?"

"You might not. But I got a few questions."

She glared at him, but he could see the moment she gave in. "Fine. I guess I could make you some coffee." She looked past him, towards Mal. "Your friend want to come in?"

"No. He'll stay outside."

"Long as you're sure."

"I'm sure."

"Come inside then."

Jayne glanced at Mal, who nodded faintly, then strode past her to the open doorway as if she might change her mind at any moment. Ducking his head slightly to get under the low lintel, his tracker's nose picked up the scent of washing soap, flowers, a hint of slightly stale perfume and a brief undertone of fresh bread.

She stepped inside after him, but left the door open.

"You can close it. I won't bite," Jayne said softly.

"Nope, I don't think I will."

"You don't trust me?"

"Not one little bit."

"I guess that's about right," he said ruefully.

She glared at him. "Jayne, it's been a hell of a long time. And you weren't exactly law abiding last time I saw you."

"No, I guess not. But I ain't gonna attack you."

"Don't take offence, but I'm not in the mood to take your word for it. And if the door's open least if you take it into your mind to try, your man out there'd stop you."

"You think?"

"He looks an honourable sort."

"Mallory, you ain't exactly the best judge of character," Jayne pointed out. "Look at Indigo. Look at me."

"Which is why I'm leaving the door open."

"Understood." He glanced around the small room. "Nice place."

"It's home."

"Have to say, girl, it ain't like I imagined."

"Yeah, well, times change."

He nodded, studying his surroundings now his eyes had adjusted. About the size of the kitchen on Serenity, this appeared to be the main living area. A big iron range dominated the back wall, a couple of high backed chairs either side, while an old table sat dead centre of the room, still holding the remains of a breakfast set for two. But what could have been something austere was livened by bright rugs on the wooden floor, and a chest of drawers against the right hand wall was covered with captures, small figurines and a jug of late summer flowers. Even the large stone sink under the front window had half a dozen small pots of herbs waiting for use on the sill.

"So ... what you been doing with yourself?" he asked, anything to fill the silence.

"Living. Just about."

"At least you got out of the business."

Her eyebrow arched. "Did I?"

"Hell of a long way for a feller to come if he wanted some female company, 'specially with Addie's still open in town. No offence, Mallory, but you ain't exactly in the first flush to be that much in demand."

She stared at him, then dissolved into laughter. "Gorram you, Jayne. Always did call a spade a spade."

"Never did see the need to be any different."

"No, I suppose you didn't." She backed up towards the sink. "But you're right. I got out. Truth is, I got married, Jayne."

"That's good," he said approvingly. "Who to?"

"Terry Malloy."

"Malloy. Malloy." His eyebrows drew together as he pondered the past. "I seem to recall a feller by that name worked in the livery stable."

"Yeah. That's him."

He couldn't resist taking a small dig. "So you're Mallory Malloy?"

"Now don't you start that, _Jayne_ Cobb. I wasn't thinking on what name I was gonna end up with when I married him."

He acknowledged the truth of the matter by the slightest of shrugs. "Why did yah?"

"He asked." Mallory spoke simply, as if it was obvious.

"So he's ... what, out hunting?"

"Huh?"

Jayne nodded towards the table. "Two for breakfast?"

"Oh. No. That's my ..." She stopped. "Jayne, why _are_ you here?"

"Indigo." Now it was his turn to sound like the answer was obvious.

"There's nothing to tell. I'm sure Addie gave you everything you needed."

Jayne wondered at the slight bitterness in her voice when she spoke of the older woman, but decided to ignore it, at least for the moment. "Not everything. Not why someone decided to shoot him in the back. Or who."

"Indigo ... upset a lot of folks over the years. He should never've come back to Cason's Point. Then there wouldn't have been a problem. But as to who shot him ... why should I know?"

"Because it ain't that big a place."

"And nobody talks."

"Addie did."

"And she sent you here." She laughed again, but this time it was a brittle sound like ice cracking. "That woman needs to keep her opinions to herself."

Jayne's eyebrows rose a hair. "You and her used to be friends."

"That was a long time ago as well." She busied herself stacking the plates and bowls on the table.

"Mallory ... I need to know what happened."

"I told you – I've got nothing to say." She carried them to the sink, dropping them into the water and ignoring the splash of suds onto her dress.

"I think there is. Addie said he'd been here. That morning."

She span on her heel to glare at him. "That's right. He was. All night. That what you wanted to hear?"

"I'm not your keeper –"

"No, you're not," she spat.

"But I thought we were friends too."

"Friends?" She pushed at her hair with the back of her hand as if to move it out of her face. "Friends? Jayne, you paid me to sleep with you."

He felt a flash of anger but held it in check. "I never heard you complain."

"Do you think I would've? I was a whore! Whores don't complain. They open their legs, hope it's over soon and say thank you after."

He growled, low in his throat, then saw her complexion pale. Closing his eyes briefly, he nodded slowly. "Yeah. You're right. I've got no call on you. I paid for everything I ever took." He reached into his pocket and withdrew two coins. "So here. Payment. You tell me what happened to Indigo."

"That's all you care about."

The laugh came out as a grunt. "Hell, Mallory, I wouldn't be on this forsaken planet otherwise."

She stared, then as if her strings were cut she dropped into one of the chairs at the table. "You're right." She shook her head. "You're right. You didn't belong here, and you left. And I shouldn't be angry at you, not when it's ..." Her voice faded away.

"When it's Indigo you're really mad at?"

She swallowed. "Maybe you ain't as stupid as you used to be."

"Nah. Pretty much the same." He sat down slowly opposite her. "So, you wanna tell me?"

"Indigo?"

"I figure there's more'n just him over the last twelve years, but ... let's start with him."

"It's what you paid for." She picked up the two coins, turning them over in her palm, rubbing them together as if they might magically procreate. Then she tossed them back to Jayne. "Keep 'em."

"Mallory ..."

"There's nothing to tell. Honestly. Indigo came out here once in a while when he was here, but that was it. Just being friends. And I don't know who shot him. I wasn't there."

"Don't you have any idea?"

"Sure. I could give you half a dozen names, but I'm guessing they've pretty much all occurred to you."

"Saw the Tanners in town."

"Yeah, well, that's two. Three if you count Medea."

"I'd kinda hoped she was dead," Jayne admitted.

"It's gonna take a lot to lay her six feet under." Mallory laughed. "And don't think I haven't pondered it."

"So she hasn't softened over the years?"

"Nope. If anything she's got worse."

"Is that possible?"

"Wouldn't've thought so, but she's so sharp and hard I'm surprised she hasn't cut herself to ribbons."

"You think she was behind Indigo's death?"

"I –" Whatever she was about to say was interrupted as Mal's voice carried through the open door.

"Uh, Jayne?"

"What?" the big man yelled back.

"I ... uh ... need some help here."

"Why?" Jayne called, but got no answer. He glanced at Mallory, who shrugged. Withholding the sigh he stood up and crossed to the threshold to look out, then chuckled out loud.

"It ain't funny, Jayne," Mal complained.

"You gotta admit, if it were the other way round you'd be pissing yourself laughing." He crossed his arms. "Just let me enjoy it for a while."

Mal was standing next to his horse with his back to the fence, hands up at shoulder level, staring down the barrel of a rifle. Held by a kid. "Jayne ..."

The ex-merc recognised the threatening tone, seeing the septic vat looming disgustingly large in his future, and said over his shoulder, "Mallory, I think you need to deal with this."

The boy, not more than ten or so, the weapon almost bigger than he was, glanced over towards the house. "Ma?" he called, his voice high, scared. "You okay?"

"It's okay, Josh." Mallory hurried outside.

"Only you left the door open."

"I know."

"And this feller's got a gun."

"Josh, honestly. Put the rifle down." She closed the distance to him, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

The boy, Josh, lowered the rifle, but his blue eyes never left Mal.

"Yours?" Jayne asked quietly.

"This is my son. Joshua." She looked proud, and Jayne felt a frisson of unease trickle down his spine.

"And ... uh ... how old is ..." He couldn't quite finish.

"Don't worry. He's not yours."

Josh shot the big man a glare so fiery Jayne was surprised he didn't burst into flames. "My dad's dead," the boy said. "Buried in the town cemetery."

Mal put his hands down. "Sorry, son."

The gaze turned on him instead. "Not your son."

"Nope, you're not. My boy's a mite younger than you, but he's protected his own Ma in the past."

The glare flickered. "He has?"

"That he has. His name's Ethan. Him and his sister ... we all live on my boat."

"You've got a ship?" The blue eyes had widened.

"She's called Serenity."

"What kind?"

"A Firefly."

"And you've got a crew?"

"Yeah. This big ape here's one of 'em." Mal smiled.

Josh giggled, stifling it quickly as it wasn't a manly thing to do.

Jayne couldn't help but be in awe. Mal had always been like this, able to talk with Core-bred and Rim folk alike, if the fancy took him. Still, seeing it work with a kid close up ...

"Josh, I need some water," Mallory said softly.

Her son dragged his attention away from the interesting stranger. "Ma?"

"Water."

"Ma, I think maybe I should stick around –"

"Joshua."

"Sorry, Ma." He ran to pick up a bucket from the stack by the front door, his gait slightly ungainly as if he'd put on a spurt of growth but still hadn't got his extra height under control. The rifle he propped carefully against the wall before heading down a beaten track past the house.

"His Pa?" Jayne asked quietly.

"Terry ... he got himself killed." Mallory brushed her hands down her dress.

"Except Terry wasn't his father."

Mallory glanced towards where Josh had disappeared. "A'course he was."

"Nah. Far as I recall, Terry was dark." He glanced at Mal. "Dark as Zoe," he added. "There's no way he'd've had a kid that pale. And those blue eyes ..."

Mal stirred uneasily. "Jayne, are you suggesting –"

"Not suggesting a gorram thing." _Maybe, if he was older than he looked _... He looked at Mallory. "I ain't gonna hold anything against you if you found some man to keep you warm when your husband couldn't."

She shook her head, a strand of hair falling down to her shoulders. "It ain't like that."

"No?"

"I told you, he's not yours, Jayne. He's only nine. You do the math."

The math. Had to be the one subject he was crap at. Okay, maybe not the only, but ... _Jayne, shut up and do the math_, he berated himself, trying to concentrate. So ... Josh was nine, which meant even if his birthday was coming up to be ten next week then that meant ... that meant ...

Mal sighed. "Jayne, you were already on board Serenity by the time Josh was born."

"And the last time I saw Mallory was ..." He nodded, relieved at the same time as very slightly disappointed.

Mallory crossed her arms. "See?"

"Yeah." He gazed at her. "And when did you marry Terry?"

"Maybe you ain't as stupid as you look." Mallory shook her head. "I ain't nothing, Jayne. Just a whore. I was lucky Terry wanted me, otherwise I'd still be spreading 'em in some back room somewhere. But you know the funny thing? I think maybe he did love me. Oh, he thought it'd be fun to have a whore on tap, all the tricks he figured I knew, but I think he did love me. And Josh, too."

"'Cept Josh wasn't his."

"No. He knew I was already pregnant, but he still took us both on."

"And Josh's father? Wasn't he wanting his son?"

"Troy died."

For a second Jayne thought he'd misheard, then he blinked. "Troy Tanner? Troy Tanner's Josh's dad?"

Mallory blushed. "What if he was?"

"Was?" For a plain, straightforward man he was a damn good tracker, and this was like pouncing on a slightly bent grass stem. "Was, Mallory?"

The blush deepened until it flamed across her face. "Was. Yes. He's dead too."

"Another one."

"Jayne." Mal's voice was warning, but neither listened to him.

"How'd that happen?" Jayne asked.

"An accident." Mallory went to lean on the corral, staring at her reddened hands. "He went riding one day, didn't come back. His brothers went out to look, found him near the old Alliance camp. They said it looked like he was thrown from his horse, broke his neck."

"How long had you been with him?"

"I wasn't _with_ him." She turned, her back against the crossbar. "Not the way you mean. He set me up in a room at Addie's, kept me just for himself. Shit, I wasn't going to complain. I actually had nights to myself, and he was ... he was okay." She rubbed at her face. "Better'n his brothers."

"That wouldn't be hard."

"I told him I was expecting just a week before he died."

Standing back, Mal let the conversation continue, not interfering. If anything, he was fascinated by Jayne's attitude. In a few short years the man had changed from a killer with no more sense of propriety or honour than the guns he carried, into someone who actually cared on occasion about other people. Not often, and it was mostly the work of a ninety pound woman who'd dug so deep below the surface that his shell could never heal over again, but just once in a while Mal could see the man Jayne would have become if he hadn't killed his father's murderer when he was fifteen.

"What did he say?" Jayne asked, surprisingly gently.

"He was pleased." She put her head back and stared into the cool blue sky. "Started talking about maybe we should get hitched. I told him, don't be stupid. His Ma would never allow it. She'd kill him before she'd ever let him get tied to a whore. He wasn't going to leave it alone, even told Medea."

"I bet she was pleased as punch."

"According to Troy he thought she was going to have a heart attack." She sighed then looked back at him. "Week later he died, and I was on my own again, knocked up and not knowing what the hell to do. When Terry asked me to marry him, it was like a lifeline."

"And Medea didn't try and take Josh off you?"

"I'd've killed her if she had." She stood straighter. "The truth is she doesn't want to know. When Terry died she paid for this place, but that's it. She made it more'n plain that it was on condition I never made a claim on the Tanner estate. She doesn't even talk to us when we meet on the street."

"And Josh thinks Terry was his Pa."

"He was my husband. And for all his faults he was good to Josh."

"He's gonna ask. One day. Ask how come he don't look like the pictures."

Her chin stuck out in the way he remembered. "I don't have any."

Jayne exhaled loudly. "Mallory, I know you won't believe me, but you should tell him. If Josh loved him he won't care if they're not blood."

Fire flashed in her eyes. "I think I know my son better than you, Jayne."

"Guess you do." He paused a second. "When did he die? Terry, I mean."

"Three years ago. Left us with nothing. We didn't have any choice but accept Medea's offer."

"How did it happen?"

"He ... got shot."

"Lot of that about."

"After a poker game. Someone thought he'd been cheating."

"Was he?"

"Probably. He thought he was better than he was." She took a hesitant step towards him. "Just ... don't tell Josh about Troy. It won't do him any good."

"Mallory ..." Jayne could see she was adamant about it, and ... well, it wasn't any of his affair, not really. "Sure. Won't say a word."

"Thanks." She nodded gratefully, then plastered a smile on her face as Josh came back around the corner.

"Got it, Ma," he said, struggling with a full pail of water.

"Good boy," she said absently. "Take it into the kitchen, will you?"

"Sure thing, Ma." He disappeared inside the house.

"You gotta get water from the well?" Jayne asked, surprised.

Mallory shrugged. "The pump went last week, and it's gonna cost more'n I've got to spare to fix right now."

"That ain't right."

"It's fine."

"No, it ain't." He walked towards her. "You know, the mechanic on our boat's pretty gorram good. Maybe I can ask her to come and take a look, maybe fix it for you."

Once again Mallory's face tightened up. "Jayne, none of this is to do with you. Me and Josh, we're getting along okay. You don't need to be involved. Go on back to your ship and don't think on us anymore."

His blue eyes hardened even as he chuckled. "Mallory, I wasn't thinking about you at all. Not until I found out about Indigo."

"And you've done what you think is your duty. That's shiny. Thanks. Now go."

"Mallory –"

"Shit, Jayne! I don't need you or your pity!"

The big man gazed at her, then nodded. "Yeah. You're right. I don't owe you a damn thing."

Mal stirred uneasily. "Jayne ..."

"Don't sweat it, Cap." Jayne shook his head. "I guess I was trying too hard. Just wanting to help a friend." He turned away, striding for his horse. "Why don't you ask Medea for some cashey-money to mend the pump? It ain't like she's not got some spare lying around."

"I'm not going cap in hand to that harpy," Mallory snapped back. "I don't want charity!"

"Oddly enough, I wasn't offering it." He swung up into the saddle. "Just a helping hand to someone I used to know." Digging his heels into his mount's sides, he pulled on the reins. "Bye, Mallory." He galloped through the gates, mud kicking up from the horse's hooves.

Mal was slower, taking his time, giving Mallory space to gather her wits. As he arranged the leather straps in his hands, feeling them sit naturally into grooves that had been worn when he was young, he looked over at her. "I'll ask Kaylee to stop by, see if she can't get that pump of yours going again."

"You don't have to do that." She smoothed her dress down over her thighs.

"I know. And if it smacks of charity, think of it as me not wanting Josh there to be carrying buckets of water in the dark." He nodded towards the young boy standing in the doorway before wheeling his horse around and following his ex-merc.

"Ma?" Josh ran out into the cold air to his mother, wrapping his arms around her.

Mallory glanced down into his face, seeing Troy's features staring back at her, then shook her head. "I don't know,_ bao bao_," she admitted, holding him tightly. "I just don't know."

Up in the hills above, hidden among the scrubby bushes and leafless trees, light glinted from the sight of a high powered rifle, focussed unerringly on the small house.


	8. Chapter 8

Mal caught up with Jayne halfway back to town, but only because the big guy had reined in his mount, letting the horse tear at a gorse bush.

"You okay?" he asked, doing the same and taking the opportunity to shift slightly in the saddle to a more comfortable position – it had been a while since he'd been on a horse, and there were parts of his anatomy that were beginning to complain.

"Someone was watching us," Jayne said, without preamble.

Mal's discomfort disappeared, and he was as serious as a Reaver attack. He didn't even think to question the expert tracker's statement. "Us? Or Mallory?"

"Can't tell. Caught a flash in the foothills behind the farm."

"A scope?"

Jayne shrugged. "Figure that. Or long distance glasses."

"Is that why you left in such an all-fire hurry?"

"Maybe I was just wanting to get home."

"And maybe you were worrying about Mallory getting in the middle of something," Mal said astutely.

"Her and her boy didn't kill Indigo, so if someone's gunning for us, she doesn't deserve to be anywhere near it."

"You sure about Josh? He handled that rifle better than most kids his age."

Jayne knew Mal wasn't honestly suggesting Josh killed anyone – he was just playing devil's advocate so that all the options didn't colour the facts. "Nah. He wouldn't'a shot you, least not on purpose."

"That's nice to know." Mal's voice was drier than the Sihnon desert. "And if he thought your pal was threatening his Ma?"

"Indigo weren't like that."

"You don't know. It's been as long since you saw him."

"He might've done stuff another man'd be ashamed of – if that other man wasn't me – but he never abused a woman as I'm aware of." He shook his head. "Josh didn't shoot Indigo. I'd bet my life on it."

"Hey, I was the one at the end of the gun."

Jayne had to smile. "As if that was something you ain't used to."

Mal's own mouth twitched. "More'n once, Jayne, more'n once." He pulled his horse away from the scrub, turning his head back towards town. "Come on. We can ride and talk. Least, if you think you can do both at the same time."

"Might be able to manage that, Mal."

They ambled along, the sun high enough now to be pleasurably warm on their backs, but Jayne seemed once more reluctant to open up, so Mal felt obliged to push things a little. "So apart from offering the use of my mechanic to fix her pump, did you get anything interesting out of Mallory?"

"Not really." Jayne glanced across, tearing his gaze from the horizon, his hands resting loosely onto the pommel. "She was about as helpful as a burr under my saddle."

"That much."

"She didn't tell me any more than Addie had, probably less."

"Do you think she was scared?"

"Not ... scared. Wary, but that'd be normal considering I'm a stranger."

"Not quite, Jayne."

"Close enough. And a man sharing your bed doesn't make him a friend."

"Since I ain't never had a man sharing my bed that way, I conjure I'll take your word for it."

Jayne shot him a look, but then shook his head, a chuckle forcing its way from deep in his chest. "I reckon you ain't. And hardly ever visited a whore, either, am I right?"

Mal's mind threw up an image of a bed, ropes, his cousins Harry and Vinnie standing over him in his somewhat naked and empty-pocketed state, laughing their heads off ... "Hardly ever, Jayne." In order to change the subject he asked, "What about his stuff? Was there anything in it might give you an idea what Indigo was up to?"

"I didn't ask."

"How come?"

"Just didn't."

"Jayne, you go to all the trouble of finding out Mallory had his stuff, we ride all the way out here ... and you didn't ask?"

The big man fixed him with ice blue eyes. "Maybe it occurred to me Addie might've gone through his things, taken out anything that I might find in the least interesting."

Mal couldn't help it – he laughed out loud. "Sometimes you can still surprise me."

"'Cause I've got more'n killing folks on my brain?"

"Pretty much."

"Shit, Mal ... right now, it's all one and the same, ain't it?"

Mal nodded, then took a breath. "Look. Jayne, I can't say I disagree with Mallory, or Addie, for that matter. Your pal's dead, and as much as I'm sorry, it wasn't your fault, and maybe you should let sleeping dogs lie."

"Then how come someone was watching us?"

"Said yourself, this place is under Medea Tanner's thumb. Who's to say it wasn't one of her men making sure we weren't about to upset the apple cart?"

"Sleeping dogs ... apples carts ..." Jayne had to chuckle. "You're spending way too much time with Frey."

"She's my wife. It comes with the ring."

"Right. Like you wouldn't anyway."

Mal understood. For all that Jayne was still absorbed in the matter of his friend's death, he didn't want to talk about it more than he had, at least for now. "Too true. Okay. I'll get Zoe to take Kaylee up to Mallory's to see about the pump. If anyone can sort it out, she can."

"Probably make it twice as good for half the power."

"That'd be Kaylee."

Jayne's brow furrowed. "And how come Zoe?"

Mal returned it. "I think maybe she'd be better, don't you?"

"Than me, you mean?"

"If Mallory does know something, do you really think she's gonna be able to hold out against Kaylee's sunshiny nosiness, do you?"

Now it was Jayne's turn to burst out laughing. "That's low, Mal."

"Yeah, I thought so." Mal had that smug look on his face again.

"Might work, though. And Zoe's more'n capable of looking after 'em both, second of which she's not threatening."

Mal raised an eyebrow. "Zoe? We are talking about the same person here?"

"Okay. Maybe threatening ain't the right word. But she's a woman. Mallory might talk to her, too."

"A'course, I could ask River to go, do a little peeking –"

"Uh, no," Jayne put in quickly, suddenly struck with the notion that his wife might just find out some things he wouldn't want her to know. "Zoe'd be good."

"Glad you think so."

"You know, if we're gonna be staying a while, I'm going hunting," the big man went on. "Might get some fresh meat. And if there's enough we could share it with Mallory, stock her shelves a little."

"And maybe take a look around the foothills?" Mal almost laughed at the surprised look on Jayne's face. "Contrary to popular opinion among the riff raff in the bars we frequent, I'm not as stupid as I look."

For once in his life Jayne didn't rise to the opening to insult his captain, which tended to say more about his state of mind than anything. Instead he said, "Might take advantage of the situation. Just to see what could be out there."

"Jayne, you get yourself shot and there might not be anyone about to help you this time."

"Hell, Mal, I'm just gonna go hunting. That's all."

"Just make sure it's wild animals. Something that doesn't shoot back."

"That's the plan."

Mal shot a glare at his ex-merc, but the big man's gaze was back on the horizon, looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, despite the way he'd spoken.

* * *

Freya was waiting for them as they walked up to the Firefly, having dropped the horses back at the livery stable.

"Hey," she said, stepping down the ramp towards them. "I was wondering when you were going to get back."

"We went visiting," Mal said, slipping his arm around her waist.

"So Hank said. And?"

"And ... not much," he had to admit. "Met some nice folks, and some not so nice. All in all I'll be glad when we leave."

"After Kaylee fixes the pump," Freya said.

"So you were listening." He wasn't accusing, more than aware she liked to keep tabs on him, particularly since his brush with heart failure, however much that hadn't been his fault.

"A bit." She smiled slowly. _I don't want it to happen again_, she added mentally.

"'M I ever gonna have my head to myself again?" he asked, smiling.

"Do you want it?"

He chuckled. "Not for all the credits in the Alliance."

"That's all right, then."

"Hey, Cap." Kaylee stood at the Firefly's entrance. She rubbed her hands together. "Ain't warmed up much, has it?"

"That it hasn't."

"Time o' year," Jayne said. "I seem to recall it snowing sometimes after a day like this, but ..." He looked up into the sky. "Not today."

"Daddy!" Ethan almost tumbled down the ramp to his father. "Daddy, can we go and play?"

Mal looked down into a familiar blue gaze. "I don't know about that," he said. "This ain't exactly a place I want you kids wandering around in."

"We'll be careful." He glanced over his shoulder at the other children lurking in the shadow of the cargo bay. "Honestly, Daddy."

Mal looked at Freya, who shrugged. "That ain't helping," he murmured.

"He's not asking me."

His eyes narrowed a moment, then he let go of his unsupportive wife and went down onto his heels in front of his son. "Ethan, it ain't a case of you being careful. This town ... I'd rather you stayed close."

Ethan heaved a sigh of such magnitude from his little chest that it seemed to come right from his boots. "Okay, Daddy."

Kaylee covered her quite possibly grinning mouth with her hand, even as there were disappointed mutterings behind her.

Mal stood up. "_Mei-mei_, there's an old friend of Jayne's needs some of your talent."

"Something broken, Cap?" Kaylee asked, all back to business as she stepped down the ramp.

"A water pump. Seems it stopped working a few days ago. Think you can do something about it?"

"I can take a look. Might be something real easy, and if not then maybe I got a part that'd do."

"Good." He nodded. "Any idea how long it'll take?"

"No way of knowing, not 'til I take it to pieces, Cap," Kaylee admitted. "Could be an hour, might be half a day."

"Then we'll leave it 'til tomorrow. The sun's already heading for the horizon, so best we all start fresh in the morning. Don't fancy being out after dark," Mal decided. "Zoe'll take you straight after breakfast, make sure you're settled."

"I don't need a nanny, Cap."

"And what did I just tell Ethan?"

Kaylee glared at him, but her sunniness burned through. "That'll be shiny. She can pass me the tools when I need 'em. Just like when you're the nurse and Simon's being the doc."

"It's usually Mal being the patient, _bao bei_," Simon said, strolling into the angled sunlight, stroking his hand down Bethie's hair as he passed her.

Mal ignored him. "Whatever she needs to be, Kaylee."

"I'll be with you as well," Jayne put in unexpectedly. "Least as far as Mallory's. Introduce you."

"Mallory?" Kaylee repeated. "You mean she's the friend of yours? The one you told us you used to –"

"That's the one," Mal interrupted, wary of little ears listening in. "Anyway, sounds good. And you might as well take the old ATV, give it an airing."

"_Xie xie_, Captain," Kaylee said brightly.

"Then ... Daddy?" Ethan was tugging on his pants leg. "If nobody's going anywhere right now ... can we go for a walk?"

Mal looked down, and wondered if he'd ever been so innocent, so ... happy with simple things.

_Of course_, he heard in his mind. _Still are. That's why we're still flying._

He glanced at Freya and smiled. "Okay," he said, as much to her as to their son. "Go and get your coats."

Ethan grinned. "Yes, Daddy!" He ran back into the Firefly, and the combined whooping of a happy crowd of kids belted out of the open doors.

"Do you think they're pleased?" Mal asked Freya.

She laughed lightly. "Probably. I'll go grab ours too." She followed the children, if somewhat slower.

"Want I should come too?" Kaylee asked, rubbing her hands together.

Mal smiled. "I've a notion Frey and me can probably handle 'em between us."

"I don't know about that ..."

"I didn't think you wanted to go walkabout here," he pointed out.

"I don't. I mean ..." She glanced down at the engine grease seemingly permanently engrained on her palms. "I just thought, if you wanted –"

He put his arm around her shoulders. "It's okay, _xiao mei-mei_. We'll be taking a com with us, so if we need help, we'll yell."

She looked relieved, and guilty, in about the same amounts.

"Kaylee, want to help me get supper ready?" Simon asked. "Since it seems to be my turn again, according to the rota. I thought I'd do something slow-cooked."

"You know, there're times I wonder if that rota's rigged," Kaylee said, glad of a change of subject, and giving Mal a faintly dirty look. "Seeing as my husband seems to be in the kitchen twice as much as anyone else."

"Hey, I'm captain," Mal protested. "I don't have to answer questions like that." He squeezed gently. "'Sides, I kinda think on it as a piece of mercy – Hank can burn water. And don't you worry – he makes up with it on the septic vac."

Jayne, despite his preoccupation with other matters, chuckled low in his throat.

* * *

Mal sat back in the pilot's chair and gazed out into the night. Although there were stars shining in the dark sky, it seemed naked compared to the drifts he was used to up in the Black, and the slow-rising moon made the frost that was forming sparkle. It actually made Cason's Point seem almost pretty. As long as he ignored the undercurrents even he could feel.

They'd had a nice walk, enjoying the crisp air as they took the left hand road away from the town, although he'd noticed the children maybe didn't range as far afield as they usually did. Jesse, in particular, preferred to walk along holding Freya's hand, although in Caleb's case it wasn't his choice, as he was in the reins River had made for him. Still, that didn't stop him swinging around on the end, laughing as he went. Mal had hauled him back more than once, but in the end just let him get on with it.

He'd been more concerned with the way Freya kept watching the landscape, and eventually pulled her close to his side.

"You okay, _ai ren_?" he asked quietly.

She smiled. "Shiny."

_Wanna try that again?_ He knew she was going to pick up his thoughts, and that she'd realise he didn't want to possibly upset Jesse.

_Not sure._ She looked into his blue eyes. _I just feel like somebody's watching us._

He'd told her about Jayne's assertion that they'd been observed at Mallory's. _Dangerous?_

_I don't know._ She bit her lip, looking very like her daughter. _All I can feel is Jayne at the moment._

_Ah. Not good._ He squeezed her waist gently. _Think we should head back?_

_No._ She took a deep breath. _No. We're not in danger. Not with our shadow._

_Shadow?_

She smiled. _Jayne._

He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. _He keeping an eye on us?_

_On Caleb more._

The little boy surged forward, almost as if he knew he was being thought about, but it was only to attempt to pick up something that might have once been alive.

"No, whoa there, Cal," Mal said, tugging back on the reins. "You got no idea where that's been."

Considering who his parents were, Caleb simply chuckled to himself and toddled on, his interest captured by something else.

"Good boy," Freya murmured.

"He sure is a happy kid." Mal shook his head. "Kinda makes you wonder what Jayne was like as a boy."

"You could always ask him."

"Don't want to know that much." This time he made it look natural as he glanced around. "Where is he?"

"Not far."

"Doesn't he trust us?"

"Doesn't trust this place, more like."

"He's not the only one, _xin gan_."

"No."

Still, nobody made a play for them – in fact they didn't see anyone until they were on their way back, when a small pony and trap overtook them from the direction of the foothills. It didn't stop, but Mal could see it was being driven by Addie from the saloon, lifting a hand when the woman waved back at them.

He wondered idly where she'd been, although it wasn't really his business. Maybe she was making a housecall. At that point Freya had elbowed him in the side, and he knew she'd picked up on it. He smiled.

The fresh air seemed to make everyone hungry, and they polished off Simon's slow-cooked protein stew in double quick time, before various yawning children were put to bed. Jayne went outside to smoke one of his cigars after Kaylee told him she'd got the scrubbers turned down low to save energy, but most of the rest of the adults took advantage of an early night, even if they weren't intending necessarily sleeping.

Hank had jumped at Mal's offer to turn the ship down to its night cycle, leaving the captain on the bridge, staring at the stars. Nothing in particular caught his attention, and he spoke quietly.

"Did you find anything?" he asked the empty bridge.

River stepped silently over the sill. "You knew it was me." Her voice was accusing.

"I was kinda wondering when you were gonna tell me."

"So you guessed."

"I didn't hear anything, so I knew it was you." He glanced down at her bare feet. "Don't suppose you'd listen if I told you to put your boots on."

"Not in the slightest." Her eyes narrowed. "You didn't hear anything so you knew it was me?"

He grinned, for once having been the one to non-plus her rather than the other way around. "That's right."

"And I am not non-plussed."

"Stay outta my brain."

"No."

A chuckle rolled up his chest. "You're gonna be the death of me, you know that."

"No, _jia yan_. I will save you."

"You usually do." He turned back to the windows. "You gonna sit down or keep making the bridge look untidy?"

She slid into the navigation chair. "Cason's Point."

"Yeah."

"Most of it belongs to the Tanner family."

"Figured as much."

"Medea Tanner inherited it from her husband, Howard Aloysius Tanner." She sighed. "He has a plaque in the church."

"Nice." He waited. "That it?"

"Of course not." She lifted her feet onto the seat and arranged her dress over her knees. "Three sons, Troy, Bradley and Wesley. Troy is buried next to his father, but the other two are like cankers on the green shoots of life in Cason's Point."

"You planning on being poetical for the whole of this conversation?"

"Probably."

"Just so's I know. I'll try and keep up."

She flashed him a warm smile, then sobered again. "Their bank accounts were a little difficult, but eventually they gave up their secrets. Medea Tanner holds the purse strings, and keeps a tight rein on her boys."

"So Jayne said."

"Except they have money in accounts she knows nothing about."

Mal relaxed a little more into the chair. "Now, why don't that surprise me?"

"I couldn't backtrack enough to find out where it comes from, but it's regularly topped up, every six months or so. It's due now."

He nodded slowly. "Slavers." He opened his mind enough to let her see the memory of the three men in Addie's saloon, and his own remembrance of the one with the scar on his chin.

"Quite probably."

"Any idea what, or where?"

"Not at the moment." She sighed. "I shall consider the matter."

"Nope, don't you be doing that." Mal pointed outside. "You see those lights out there?"

"Of course."

"Well they ain't nothing to do with us. And as soon as your other half has done what he thinks is his duty and supplied Mallory with a locker full o' meat –"

"And Kaylee has fixed the water pump."

"That too ... anyway, then we'll be on our way. We've got that job on Jubilee, and I don't want to be burning good fuel just to make sure we get there on time."

She turned her big eyes on him. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"Think it'll help?"

She shrugged, a delicate action entirely suited to her frame. "I don't know. He's already afraid I might learn something I don't like about him."

"I'd'a thought you knew everything there was to know by now."

"No. Not everything. Even he has locked doors that I don't venture beyond."

"Does it worry you? Knowing there's stuff you don't know about him?"

"Does it worry you?" she asked in turn. "There is much of _mu qin's_ life that you are unaware of."

"I know." He allowed a small smile. "Believe me, I know. And I live in hope that maybe one day she lets me into those locked rooms."

"And if she doesn't? Will it stop you loving her?"

The smile grew. "I know what you're saying, albatross. And no, you're right. Nothing'd stop me loving Frey, no matter what. And you wouldn't stop loving Jayne, either, would you?"

"Not in a billion, trillion, quadrillion years. Or infinity, whichever is longer."

He had to chuckle. "We're a pair, ain't we? Found our soul mates through sheer luck."

"And perseverance."

"That too."

She stirred. "Jayne's back inside. You can lock us down."

"Will do." He ran an arpeggio over the control console. "That's it." Glancing at her he added, "You need me to keep the lights up for you?"

"No." She stood up, her dress floating down. "I know my way around Serenity blindfold. As you do."

"Guess so." He flicked another switch and the illumination slowly died down, leaving just a gentle glow to stop anyone falling down the stairs. "'Night, River."

"Goodnight." She turned to leave but paused, her dark eyes seeming even bigger now. "Do you want me to continue my research?"

He seriously considered it, then shook his head. "No. Like I said, this place is nothing to do with us. And I don't want you to be found pitter pattering places where you shouldn't."

"I understand." She cocked her head. "And Freya is waiting for you."

"Is she?"

"Mmn. And if you wait much longer, she's going to start thinking we are somehow doing something we shouldn't."

"You and me, _xiao nu_? I doubt it."

She laughed, the sound showing how young she really was under the crazy lunatic assassin exterior. "She trusts you."

"And not you?"

She leaned down and put a very chaste kiss on his cheek. "I can't be trusted _at all_." She laughed again and ran off the bridge.


	9. Chapter 9

River pushed him in the shoulder. "Jayne."

Immediately he was awake, reaching for the small handgun he kept above the bed. "Problems?"

"No. Freya."

He lay back on the bed, staring into the darkness. "Riv, I was asleep," he complained mildly.

"And mother is awake, sitting in the kitchen."

"She ain't your mother." It was automatic, and she ignored his words.

"She needs to talk."

"Fine. I'll wait here 'til you get back."

"Needs to talk to someone like her."

He lifted himself onto his elbow. "Are you meaning me?"

"We are all alike, on a molecular level. But higher ..." She rested her chin on his chest. "Somehow you are close. Friends. And I think she needs a friend."

"She's got Mal."

"Someone who understands the darkness."

"She's got –"

"Jayne."

"Fine." He swung his legs off the bed. "Shiny. I'll just go ..."

"Good." River settled back down, her eyes closing as she pulled the covers back up to her neck.

Jayne pulled on a pair of pants and a t-shirt. "You ain't gonna wait up for me?" he asked, surprised.

"I'll be listening," she said, then yawned widely.

"Right." Jayne shook his head as he walked quietly out of the shuttle.

* * *

Mal rolled over in bed, reaching out to Freya to pull her close, but her side of the bed was empty. Forcing his eyes open he scanned the small room, noting the fact that her clothes were missing from the heap she'd left them in, and the large red shawl he'd bought for her had gone from its place on the chair, and he sighed. It had been a while since he'd woken alone, several months in fact, but it wasn't all that unusual. Freya sometimes found it hard to sleep, waking from dreams that had made her sweat hard, her breath coming in great gulps. So rather than toss and turn, maybe disturbing Mal, she'd go and sit in the kitchen, playing solitaire until she felt ready to try again.

He glanced at the small chronometer on the table by the bulkhead – it was so late a man might call it really early. Smiling slightly he reached out and touched the pillow next to him, but it was cold, indicating she'd been gone some time. With a sigh he swung his legs off the bed and stood up, dragging a pair of baggy sleep pants over unresponsive feet before climbing the ladder into the corridor above. He shivered slightly, then padded towards the kitchen.

He had to smile. He was right – there she was, sitting at the table, only she wasn't alone. He could also see Jayne sat opposite, and the smile died in a flare of jealousy.

No, that was crazy. There was no way Freya would have anything going with the ex-merc. Mal ran his hands over his face. Okay, maybe he was tired, _more_ tired than he thought. And there were other reasons for them to be awake in the wee hours. As hard as it was for him to accept, in some ways his wife and ... and _Jayne_ were alike. They both had a dark side, something Freya did her very best to keep hidden, using the techniques taught by her mentor to control it. At least, that's what she thought. Mal had yet to see a sign of it himself, but he had to admit maybe that was because he loved her so absolutely.

Besides, the pair of them were just sitting, talking. Admittedly there was a bottle of whiskey on the table between them, glasses in front of them, but Freya was wrapped in her shawl, and Jayne needed to shave the skin around his goatee, so neither of them looked as if they were about to ... get squishy. Instead they were talking, quietly, and Mal found himself not wanting to interrupt. Instead he gave into the other urge, and he slid down the wall to sit on the deck, eavesdropping.

"That bad?" Jayne was asking, pouring a glassful each.

"Mal hasn't heard everything." She stared into the dark liquid. "Actually, I've told him pretty much nothing. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl." She picked up the glass and tossed its entire contents down her throat.

"Hell, Frey, if you're gonna do that I'm gonna get out the rotgut."

"You mean this isn't?" she asked, her voice strained, her eyes tearing up.

He picked up his own glass and sniffed it. "Smells okay to me." He sipped. "Taste fine."

"Must be me, then." She wiped at her cheeks.

"'Cept I'm wondering if maybe it's not the booze, but the memories," Jayne said with rare perception.

"Maybe you're right." She sighed. "I can't even say how long I was there. Oh, I know the date I left, and the date Amon finally admitted to it being, but in between … Sometimes it felt like only a month, others like it was forever. What they did …took from me …"

"You don't have to," Jayne said, putting out his big hand and covering hers. "I ain't the best of people to talk to."

"Don't sell yourself short. In a way, we're more alike than most other people on this boat."

"You ain't got a goatee."

She had to laugh. "No, that's true. But you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know." He looked down at his untouched drink. "There was a time maybe I thought we could've … 'cept you only ever had eyes for Mal."

"Yes. Sorry about that, Jayne."

He lifted his head, and she was glad to see him grinning. "Nah, don't be. If'n we had, I'd never've found out how River felt about me. Or how I felt about her." He chuckled. "It's just strange, don't'cha think? A goodly bit of my life I've gone about doing what I want, and she wasn't even alive. I didn't know what I was missing."

"It makes you feel complete."

"You too?"

"Me too."

"You know, I've shot someone afore for saying something like that. Just on principle."

"I'm glad you've changed then." She held out her glass. "Come on, we were going to drink a toast."

"That we were." He refilled it. "Absent friends."

"Absent friends."

They drank together.

"If you want you can talk about it," Jayne said, pouring again. "What they did. I know I won't understand any of the long words, but I ain't gonna go around blabbing about it either."

She gazed at him for a long time, until he felt an uncomfortableness.

"I … don't know," she admitted finally. "So much of it is hazy, as if my mind's blanked out a lot. And what I do remember is full of pain and blood. And voices. Voices all the time, telling me to do things, telling me not to, and others out on the edge just thinking about their lives."

"Those ones'd be in your head?"

She nodded. "I thought I was going crazy. In fact I knew I was. So I hid in the darkness, only it tried to eat me."

"You know you're sounding more'n a titbit like my moonbrain," Jayne pointed out.

"Not surprised." She sighed. "They made me do things, Jayne. I don't have anything but … pictures, images, snapshots of that time, but I'm pretty sure they're real." An intense wave of sadness passed over her face. "If there'd been some way of killing myself, if they'd left me alone long enough, I would have."

"Then you got out."

"I still don't know how. But I was outside, and the building was burning behind me." She swallowed, still hearing the screams of the dying both in her ears and mind.

"Good riddance to 'em all," Jayne said fiercely, and she knew he was thinking about his own wife, fast asleep in the shuttle.

"They thought they were helping."

"You're kidding." He sat back, fingering the glass.

"They thought, if they could make fighters, weapons, they could make everyone behave, and that would in turn make everyone civilised and happy."

"Yeah, seen that before. Civilise 'em until they're dead." An unfiltered image of Miranda crossed his mind, and he barely suppressed the shudder, throwing the whiskey down his throat to drown it out.

"They let something out, Jayne, out of me, and I've been trying to control it ever since. But without Amon, I'd have been six feet under half a lifetime ago."

"Yeah." He smiled slightly. "Figure it was the same with Indigo."

"Tell me about him."

Jayne knew she didn't want to talk about her past anymore, so he talked about his. "Never really did figure out whether he was called Indigo 'cause of all the tattoos, or the tatts came about 'cause of his nickname, but he sure was sorta blue all over." He chuckled. "Some of 'em … well, you wouldn't want anyone with any moral pro-clivities to see 'em."

"Oh? Do you have pictures?"

The chuckle became a laugh. "Nah. You'd go bright red."

"I don't know where I get this reputation for being something of a prude –" Freya began, but Jayne interrupted her.

"Prob'ly from the times you've been a mite uncomfortable when folks have talked about sexing."

She shifted on her seat, then glared at him when he laughed again. "It's private, Jayne."

"Only if you ain't a prude." He grinned, then went on, "Anyways, a boy could get an education from reading Indigo."

"Is that what you did?"

"Hell, I weren't a boy. And I'd had a pretty good education from more'n a coupla whores. But he taught me other stuff. Like how to know when a man was lying. And half a dozen ways to kill without getting up from the table, but that's 'cause Indigo said you should never waste energy if'n you didn't have to."

"He ... sounds like quite a guy."

Jayne chuckled again. "There was more, a'course, but ... yeah, he was."

"I can see why you want to avenge him."

"It ain't about revenging anyone, Frey. What happened to Indigo happens to a lot of fellers in my line o' work." He stared into his empty glass. "Shot in the back, hanged, taken by the Alliance ... there ain't many get to sit back in a rocker in their old age."

"That won't happen to you, Jayne," Freya said, reaching across and touching his hand, just a brush of her fingertips across his skin.

"It woulda." His blue eyes were sincere. "Maybe not now, but ... before ..." He waved at the metal skin surrounding them, keeping them safe from the Black. "All this."

Freya understood. And yawned. "Sorry."

Jayne smiled, not the leer normally associated with his interactions with women, but a warmer, more personal grin that was in fact far sexier. "Better be getting back to Mal. He wakes up and finds you gone ... well, he might think we're up to something we shouldn't be." He stood up and stretched, the room smaller than it had been a few seconds before. "Riv'll be wanting to snuggle, too." He went to pick up the glasses.

"Leave them. I'll wash them in the morning." She got to her feet, tugging the shawl tighter around her shoulders. "Night, Jayne. And ... thank River for me."

He laughed. "We ever gonna be able to put one past you?"

"Everyone does, all the time. Ask my children." She smiled. "You've got that to come with Cal."

"Nah," Jayne wrinkled his nose. "My son's a good boy."

"You just keep telling yourself that, Jayne. It's safer."

"Well, I'm to my bed." He headed for the doorway. "Night, Frey."

"Night, Jayne."

She waited until he'd gone, hearing his footsteps disappearing as he went down the stairs, then picked up the glasses and placed them on the counter before climbing into the corridor and walking along to the bridge.

"Are you coming to bed?" she asked, turning around to sit on the steps.

Mal sighed from where he was hiding. He'd heard Jayne coming, and figured he didn't have the time to actually climb down the ladder into his bunk, and jumping down was just asking for a broken ankle, so he'd leaped to his bare feet instead and run to the bridge. "You knew I was here, huh?" he said quietly.

"Yes," she said, equally quietly. She rested her wrists on her bent knees. "And you don't have to be jealous."

"I know." He joined her, leaning against her.

"It doesn't stop it, though, does it?"

"Nope." It didn't. Sitting there, listening to her talking to someone who wasn't him ... He shook his head. "Sorry, Frey. I didn't mean to listen in, but ... you don't tell me things, and sometimes maybe I get worried 'cause you open up to Jayne and not to me."

"About my past."

"Yeah."

She didn't respond for a moment, then just as he was about to prompt her, she sighed. "He's safe."

"I guess." He figured that was because Jayne wasn't likely to go telling anyone.

"Yes. And no. Not just that." She'd read his mind.

"Then why, Frey?" He turned so he could look at her, seeing her beauty even in the dim night lighting, but feeling his belly tighten. "Ain't I good enough for you to talk to? Ain't I made it plain how I feel about you over these years?"

"You have," she agreed. "And therein lies the root of the problem."

"Frey, you ain't making any sense."

"I talk to him because he understands, and because ... he won't stop loving me."

Mal couldn't help it. He sighed. It was either that or get angry, and even then it was a close run thing. His wife's insecurities and occasional bouts with the green-eyed goddess were part of her, making her the woman she was, but sometimes he'd like to take them out and give them a gorram good hiding.

He took her hand. "_Ai ren_, there ain't nothing in this whole, wide, nefarious 'verse that'd make me love you even on iota less. Ask River. She'll do the math for you."

Her lips might have twitched, he couldn't be too sure, not in that twilight. "I'm sure she would," she said softly.

"And we all got our secrets," he went on. "Things I did in the war, some since ... But what those _hwoon dahns_ did to you in that place, how they hurt you ..." He had to stop for a moment to gather himself. "I wanna kill each and every one of 'em for you. Take 'em to pieces. Just the thought of what they put you through makes my blood boil."

"That's not good for your heart."

"My heart's fine. 'Cept maybe it's like the rest of me and wants to do some murdering for you."

"Oh, Mal."

"'Cept I'm wrong about that. It wouldn't be murder. It'd be justice." He squeezed her hand. "And 'cause you won't tell me, I got all  
these possibilities running round my brain, and they just make me ..." He took a breath. "Frey, I love you so much."

"I know. And I love you too." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "And it was worse."

The fire in his blood turned to ice. What had they done to his _xin gan_, to his beloved, that was worse than the blackest imaginings in his mind? "Frey ..."

"I don't want to tell you, because I can't," she said, so quietly he wasn't sure if she was speaking or thinking.

"You ever gonna be able to?"

"I don't know." She took a deep breath, the vibration transferring to him through their touching skin. "One day, maybe."

"Well, when that day happens, I'll be here. I promise."

"Thank you." She yawned again.

"Come on." He stood up. "I think maybe Jayne had the right of it. Time to get some sleep."

"I love you so much, Mal."

Tugging her gently to her feet he wrapped his arms around her, feeling her heart beating against him. "I love you too, _ai ren_." He breathed in the scent of her hair. "Just you promise me something ... if the time comes ... you let me kill 'em for you."

Her arms tightened. "I promise, Mal."

* * *

Next morning Kaylee hefted a huge bag of tools carefully down the stairs towards the open cargo bay doors.

"_Mei-mei_ ..." Mal complained, hurrying across to take it from her.

"Thanks, Cap." She grinned.

"Gorramit, what you got in here?" he asked, impressed despite himself at her quiet strength, probably from twisting wrenches and bending pipes.

"Just a few bits." Kaylee shrugged. "Won't know what's wrong with the pump 'til I get it taken apart, and it's just easier if I have what I might need with me. Then I don't have to make a second trip."

"You really think you're going to be needing the kitchen sink?" He just about managed to get it into the back of the old ATV.

"Never know," she said sunnily, joking along with him.

Jayne stomped his way out of the shuttle above them, River following with Caleb on her hip.

"You ready?" he called down.

"Ready." Kaylee waved her fingers. "Morning, Cal," she said.

Caleb giggled and waved back. "Kay-Kay," he mumbled around the other hand in his mouth, his name for his Auntie Kaylee.

"Teething," River explained, coming down the stairs after her husband. "He's chewing on everything. He tried to taste Vera this morning."

"Just so long as she wasn't loaded," Mal said pointedly.

"You think I'm that stupid?" Jayne asked, reaching the deck.

"I don't recall using those words, but ..."

Jayne grunted.

"No arguing," River said, moving smoothly to her captain's side.

"Not arguing." Mal looked down into his surrogate daughter's face. "Just looking out for my crew." He chucked Caleb under his chin, making the boy laugh.

"For family," she corrected.

"That too."

Hank and Zoe came out of the doorway to the common area.

"You got a comm.?" Mal asked his first mate.

"Yes, sir." She shrugged into the heavy coat she was carrying.

"Soon as Kaylee lets you know she's done, you call Jayne." He turned to the ex-merc. "You come back straight. No procrastinating."

"Wouldn't know how, Mal."

"I'll make sure he does," Hank said unexpectedly.

"Huh?" The big man turned, pausing in the act of leaning his rifle in the ATV. "You coming hunting with me?"

"It's a nice day. I could do with the exercise."

"You think that's a good idea?" Mal asked, a picture of Jayne 'accidentally' shooting the pilot crossing his mind.

"I'll keep out of the way." Hank pulled on the jacket they hadn't noticed he'd had draped over his arm. "I just ... like I said, I need the exercise."

Jayne stared at him, wondering if this was Hank's way of being supportive over Indigo. Then he finished packing his weapons in the old vehicle. "Don't mind," he said.

"I'm coming too," River said.

Now Jayne really was amazed. "Moonbrain?"

"I shall visit with Mallory," she said. "While Kaylee's working and Zoe's standing guard."

"Riv ..."

"And I shall play nice." She handed Caleb to Mal. "I promise."

Mal's mouth curved. "Looks like maybe she doesn't trust you as much as you think, Jayne."

River gave him her haughty look. "Of course I trust him."

"Whatever you say." He looked down. "Hey, Cal, don't you be doing that." He gently removed his suspender from the little boy's mouth.

"I'll get a teething ring," River said, running past her husband and up the stairs to the shuttle.

"And a coat," Mal called. "And boots. You ain't going nowhere making me feel cold like that."

She laughed, the sound filling the bay like her namesake.

* * *

In the dining room of the large house a distance from the town, Brad Tanner piled a plate with scrambled eggs from a serving dish on the sideboard, then joined his brother at the long table. The room was styled on a baronial refectory from Earth-that-was, but neither of them took any notice of their surroundings.

"They're still here. Cutter waved," Brad said, salting his eggs. "Sticking their noses into things that don't concern them."

"There's nothing about MacCready's death to find out." Wes sipped his coffee.

"Except who killed him."

"And nobody's going to tell Cobb anything. Not if they know what's good for them."

"That's the thing." Brad filled his fork. "People don't know how bad it could be."

Wes smiled slightly. "Then Cutter can have a word with them in his capacity as sheriff to explain."

Medea Tanner swept into the room, nodding at her sons. "Good morning."

"Morning, Ma," the two men chorused.

She crossed to the sideboard and lifted the cover on one of the dishes, selecting a single rasher of bacon and placing it on a plate. "Are we likely to have any more trouble with Cobb?"

Wesley glanced at his brother, then shrugged. Despite being younger by nearly two years, Brad tended to defer to him in matters that demanded more than the most basic intelligence. "I doubt he's going to be around long enough."

"I want you keeping an eye on him."

"Cutter McCoy's already doing that."

"I don't care about him!" Medea flashed him a glare. "I told you to. And I expect you to do as I ask."

Brad fingered the scarring on his neck. "We could always just kill him. I wouldn't mind doing it."

His mother came to the table and sat down, setting her sparse breakfast plate in front of her. "I know Cutter is being paid very well, but it isn't a good idea to kill people just for pleasure. It could get back to the Alliance, and we don't want them involved, do we?"

Another glance passed between the brothers, then Wes said, as he topped up his coffee, "A man like that, Ma? They'd probably pay us."

"And I said no." She looked over to a small cabinet by the wall, covered in still and moving captures, all of the same young man, and her expression softened as much as it ever did. "Troy wouldn't have argued with me."

Wes bit his tongue, stopping the hard comments that wanted to spill from his lips by sheer effort of will. Instead he arranged his attractive features into a smile. "I'm sorry, Ma. Of course we'll do what you say."

"Good." She nodded approvingly then reached for a slice of dry toast. "That's my good boys."


	10. Chapter 10

"Mallory."

The blonde woman sighed heavily. She'd heard the old ATV trundle up, and had been waiting outside her front door. She was surprised to see it carrying two men and three women, a not altogether agreeable feeling. "Jayne. I didn't think you were coming back."

"Told you I'd get someone to see to your pump." He climbed from his seat on the side of the vehicle, standing up and seeming to half-fill the sky.

She nodded at the man behind the controls. "Then I'm grateful."

Hank chuckled. "Not saying I couldn't do it, but it'd take a damn sight longer'n if I could listen to the machinery."

Mallory's brow furrowed. "I ... don't understand."

"He's talking 'bout me," Kaylee said brightly, jumping down and tugging a huge sack after her. "I'm Kaylee, by the way."

"And I'm River." The young woman, little more than a girl it seemed, leaped after, assisting her with the bag. "I'm here to help."

"Hinder, more like." Kaylee grinned and leaned out of the way of the pinching fingers.

The dark Amazon was slower, more stately in her progress to the ground, but the look on her face was indulgent at their antics. "My name's Zoe," she said. "And this is Hank, my husband."

Mallory felt her knees want to curtsey a little, but she refused to give in. "This all your crew?" she asked Jayne.

The big man had the grace to drop his head as if his boots were suddenly very interesting. "They're crew, yeah, but not mine. I'm ..."

"Public relations," River piped up.

Mallory had to smile, just a swift lift of her lips. "Is that so?"

"It's what the captain calls him."

Jayne coughed. "Anyways, Kaylee'll fix your pump, with or without Riv's help, and Zoe'll keep watch."

"There's nobody to watch out for, Jayne," Mallory insisted.

"'Cept folks as shoot others in the back."

She glared at him, then pointed sharply towards a track. "Down there," she said. "About a hundred yards. Can't miss it." She turned and walked quickly back into the house.

"Jayne, is there something wrong?" Serenity's mechanic asked, sidling up close to him.

"Nope, li'l Kaylee. Nothing wrong. You just be doing your job." He strode after Mallory.

Zoe exchanged a glance with River, but the young psychic shook her head. "Time to work," she said, picking up the tool bag and marching down the track.

"Any idea what's going on?" Kaylee asked.

"Not a gorram clue," Zoe admitted. "You know, I'm kinda loathe to say this, but River's right. Let's get the job done and head on home." She walked purposefully away.

Kaylee huffed in frustration, but followed.

"I'll ... just ... sit here, shall I?" Hank asked, but nobody answered.

* * *

"Where's Josh?" Jayne asked, stepping into the darker interior of the house.

"At school. In the town. Where else would he be?" She busied herself tidying an already tidy table.

"Just wondered. Didn't fancy him coming after me with that rifle." He chuckled, a low throaty growl. "Mind, I was glad I saw him holding the Cap up like that."

"What are you doing here, Jayne?" she asked, turning on him.

"I told you –"

"The pump, yeah. But you didn't have to come with 'em. What do you think I'm gonna tell you I haven't already?"

"It's not about that."

"I told you Josh ain't yours."

Jayne looked at the woman, wondering where the young whore had gone, replaced by this careworn mother, her long blonde hair held up in a messy bun at the nape of her neck. "I know that. Mallory," he said quietly.

She hitched her hands onto her hips. "So why're you getting involved?"

"'Cause Indigo was."

Mallory sighed, the air escaping her through pursed lips. "He was a fool."

"He was helping you."

"I didn't ask him to!"

He gazed at her a moment longer, then shrugged. "We're only here another day. I'm going huntin' for us, and if there's enough I'll drop a steak or two by."

"I don't need it."

"Then do what the hell you want with it." He turned to the door, pausing as he grasped the handle. "If'n you've got any friendly feeling left, the girls'd probably be glad of a drink in a while." Without another glance he strode out into the sunlight to join Hank.

* * *

"Auntie Frey?" Hope held out her picture. "Like this?"

They'd been looking at the old Masters from Earth-that-was, one of the little girl's favourite subjects, and comparing them to more modern art they found on the Cortex.

Freya gazed at her interpretation of Van Gogh's starry night, seen from her point of view much more literally and less impressionistic, and with more than a hint of Kaylee's birthplace on Phoros about it. "It's beautiful," she said. "Are you going to give it to your Grandma Frye?"

Hope nodded firmly, her blonde curls seeming to move independently. Ever since Bethie had taken a pair of scissors to her long hair some time back she'd insisted on keeping it short, not least because when it was washed there weren't nearly as many knots to deal with. Unlike her older sister, who had been known to finger the shears longingly until her Daddy had told her how much he liked her long hair.

"Do you think she'll like it?" Hope asked.

"I'm sure she'll love it." As usual the little girl's talent was astounding, and Freya could feel herself being pulled into the picture, especially to the lit windows of the house at the bottom, where she could believe that any second now a curtain would be twitched to one side and a face would peer out ...

Bethie, more paint on her hands than on the paper in front of her, grinned at Ethan, who sighed. Sometimes his mother was all too easily distracted, which wasn't always a bad thing. Still, she'd been perhaps worse than usual this morning, and he let his walls drop enough to feel a vague sense of uneasiness emanating from her, tickling his fledgling abilities.

"Mama?" he asked quietly.

Freya looked over at him, and for a second he wasn't sure she recognised him, then she smiled.

"It's okay, Ethan," she said, understanding. "Everything's shiny."

He wasn't convinced, but he nodded anyway. "Okay."

She held out her arms and he scrambled from his chair to jump in her lap. "Come on," she said. "Let's take a look at your masterpiece, shall we?"

"Better make it Bethie's," he stage-whispered. "Before she implodes."

Bethie shot him a glare full of venom but it slid off him slicker than water off a duck.

Freya laughed. "Okay," she said. "Bethie's first."

Bethie's glare turned to a beam, but as Freya took the brightly coloured picture of a pot of sunflowers there was a part of her that was still listening, still waiting for whatever was about to happen ...

* * *

Zoe had elected to perch on one of the large rocks that surrounded the smallholding, her stillness making her virtually invisible despite not even trying to hide. She watched as Mallory came out of the house with a tray in her hands, balancing three glasses of what looked like lemonade, and carried it down the track to the pumphouse.

"Hey," Mallory said at the open doorway. "I thought you might be thirsty."

Kaylee grinned over her shoulder. "Won't say no. Let me just finish this bit first."

"Where are the others?" Mallory looked around the small shack, but there was no sign of either the dark Amazon or the waif.

"Oh, Zoe's about someplace, keeping an eye on us. River's chasing butterflies, least that's what she says."

"Wrong time of year for butterflies."

"That's what I figured." Kaylee loosened the last bolt and the side panel to the pump fell into her waiting hands.

"Is she not ... quite right?"

"Sometimes I think she's saner than all of us put together." Kaylee grunted as she moved the panel behind her.

"You got to take the whole thing apart?"

"Well, I hope not, but whatever's wrong ain't exactly obvious." She wiped her hands on the rag at her waist.

"By the way, I want to apologise," Mallory said, bending down so Kaylee could take one of the glasses.

"What for?"

"Not seeming grateful earlier."

"Hey, don't you worry about that. I'd feel the same if someone came in and tried to help me when I hadn't asked."

"Somehow I doubt that." She sighed. "But the truth is, I don't have any idea how to fix this sort of thing. It's not ... what I'm good at."

"Hey, we've all got different talents." Kaylee grinned. "I mean, I'm good with machinery, Simon's good at making people better, Hank can fly ..." She laughed. "Everyone's good at something."

"Not me." Mallory sounded so certain. "'Bout all I was ever good at was lying on my back."

Kaylee sobered a little. She'd never been prudish, not like Freya, and hadn't exactly been a virgin when she got married either, but neither was she ashamed of her life before Simon. "That ain't exactly true, now, is it? You've got Josh."

"He wasn't planned."

"So? Neither was Bethie – she's my daughter. And Hope came along unexpected too." She reached over, about to pat Mallory on the knee, then stopped as she realised her hands were covered in grease. "It don't mean we love 'em any the less. And I bet Josh is a good boy. You brought him up well."

Mallory dropped her head, but smiled. "He's the light o' my life."

"'N' that's all that counts."

"You really think that?"

"Course I do. Wouldn't say it otherwise."

For a long moment Mallory didn't respond, then she sank down onto her heels. "Kaylee ... you gotta get Jayne outta here. There are things going on ... things if he knew ..."

Kaylee's forehead furrowed. "What kinda things?"

"It's a bad place. This whole gorram town ... ever since old man Tanner died, Medea and her brood ... they've taken everything they can get out of it, and it's been bleeding ever since."

"Then leave."

"How?" Mallory shrugged. "I ain't got the money, and this is the only place I've known." She shook her head. "I ain't like you. I don't have the will to go out, make my life elsewhere. Besides, she'd never let me."

"Who?"

"Medea. They might not like me, might not want Josh to be part of their family, but she knows he's her grandson. And she ain't gonna let me take him off-world." She looked at Kaylee. "I'm imagining Jayne told you all about it."

"He mighta mentioned it at supper last night." Kaylee shook her head. "But her not wanting her grandson but at the same time not wanting you to take him away ... That's crazy, all upside down."

"Medea ain't exactly known for her hold on reality sometimes." Mallory sat down on the floor, ignoring the dirt. "So I ain't got a choice."

"Is that why Indigo got killed?" Kaylee asked slowly. "Was he trying to make you leave?"

"Indigo made enemies. He got shot because of that. And I don't want the same thing to happen to Jayne."

"He can look after himself."

"That's what Indigo thought." Mallory's lips tightened. "I ain't seen Jayne in over a dozen years, Kaylee. And he's changed. Man he was before, he probably wouldn't care 'bout me and Josh. Surely wouldn't have done this, got himself involved."

"The man has grown, that I'll give you," Kaylee admitted. "Took a while."

Mallory laughed unexpectedly. "Quite a long time, I'm guessing."

"P'raps." Kaylee leaned forward. "But the truth is he ain't the same man, not deep down. Else he'd never've asked the Cap to let me come fix this."

"Then it's even more important you make him leave. He ain't gonna find out who killed Indigo, and I'm not having Jayne's death on my conscience as well."

"Mallory –"

"I'm more'n grateful to you for fixing this, but you tell Jayne I don't need anything more from him. He has to go." Mallory stood back up, brushing her dress of any fragments of dirt. "You just tell him that." She swept out, leaving Kaylee gaping a little.

* * *

Hank eyed the rifle. "Why not Vera?"

"We want to eat the meat, not mop it up with a sponge."

They'd been walking for nearly half an hour, Jayne dropping to his heels occasionally to check the ground, his fingers delicately turning over leaves and small stones.

"True," Hank agreed, pulling his coat a little closer around his neck.

"There's a few bucks around here," Jayne said, touching what looked like nothing more than a windblown double-crest. "Looks like maybe a small herd, half a dozen females, a handful of juveniles and some young."

"You're going to shoot deer?" Hank asked, his eyes wide.

"You've eaten it before," the big man pointed out. "And you knew we were hunting."

"I know, but ... I kind of like to imagine my food somehow getting to my plate without intervention of guns."

"No wonder you like that protein crap."

"I don't like it." The pilot straightened his backbone. "But given a choice between shooting a fluffy little deer and eating something that looked like it was grown at the bottom of a test tube ... well, count me in on the crud."

"You're a wuss."

"Yep, that I am," Hank agreed, nodding fervently. "Full paid up. I can show you my membership card if you like."

Jayne shook his head. "Bet you'll eat it if I gut and clean it first."

"Well, yes. Because I can tell myself I wasn't involved, and otherwise it would be a waste of good meat."

"Hell, you'd never survive out on your own."

"Luckily I've never had to try." Hank dug his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. "So if you don't mind, you can go ... kill things by yourself."

"Fine by me." Jayne sniffed the air. "Should be able to stock the freezers with no problem."

"I'll just wait here, then."

The big man chuckled. "Sure you ain't gonna be afraid something huge with teeth is gonna come after you?"

"No, you're going hunting."

"You insulting me?"

"No, Jayne. If I was doing that, you wouldn't have to ask."

"Hmmn." He wasn't convinced. Still ... "Look, if you're really not coming, why don't you go take a look at the old Alliance camp? It ain't far, just through that stand o' trees and through the rocks. There might be something you can take back to Kaylee, make her day."

Hank's eyes narrowed. "Alliance?" Then he remembered the conversation he'd had on this very subject with Mal. "Oh. Right."

"They been gone a while," Jayne assured him. "Pretty much since the end of the war. Cason's Point wasn't exactly a hotbed of Independent fervour."

Hank thought, but didn't say, that the way he'd put it sounded a lot more like River than the ex-Merc, but since the big feller had a rifle in one hand, several handguns about his person and a knife big enough to scare even the most enormous grizzly, he wisely decided not to let his tongue have its way. Instead he pointed and said, "Just through there?"

"Yeah. Take you about half an hour. I'll be done in about an hour, so I'll meet you coming back."

"Okay. Just ... remember which direction I've gone, and don't shoot me."

"Doubt even Mallory'd take your scrawny ass for food."

"It's not scrawny. Ask Zoe."

"I'll take your word for it." Jayne lifted his head again, tasting the wind. "An hour, remember." With that he loped off across the landscape, soon merging with the high grasses and low bushes until he'd vanished like a magician's assistant.

Hank grinned. For all Jayne's faults – and they were many and varied – the big man was an excellent tracker, and the pilot didn't doubt he'd be back with at least one wild animal suitably butchered. Not fish, though. Jayne hated fish guts for some reason.

He chuckled. "Ah well, Hank, you'd better get going if you're going," he muttered to himself, hitching his collar higher against the cold wind and striding purposefully towards the trees and the abandoned Alliance camp.

* * *

River had given up chasing butterflies (or maybe they had only been leaves tossed by the teasing breeze) and was squatting down next to the filter unit watching Kaylee perform miracles. Well, not miracles technically, since she was actually manhandling the trip box back into place, but since without it any water drawn up might make Mallory and her son sick, it was a sort of miracle. Petit miracle, perhaps. Miracle light. A reflection of the original, but with all the grace of –

"Riv, can you pass me ... oh, thanks." Kaylee felt the hydrowelder slap into her outstretched hand. She grinned. "That must be what Simon feels like, when he's performing surgery," she commented. "You giving him the tools 'fore he asks."

"You needed three hands," River said, shrugging. "I merely supplied the third."

"Thanks anyway."

Something squealed, and there was a brief smell of something else burning, then Kaylee sat back.

"Done?" River asked.

"Done," Kaylee confirmed, wiping her hands on her rag for the final time. "It wasn't as bad as I was afraid, and I gave it the quick once over, made sure nothing else was likely to go wrong for a while at least."

"Then Mallory will be pleased." River stood up, idly running a finger down the rusty metal, feeling the pitted surface showing the pump's age. "The machinery is grateful. Just like the other back at the docks."

Kaylee clambered to her feet. "What, you mean my girl? My Serenity?" She smiled. "She's as much my baby as Bethie, or Hope, or David Gabriel. Only don't you go tellin' 'em that."

"I think Bethie knows."

They walked out into the daylight, the sun already starting its dip towards bedtime.

"Prob'ly." Kaylee laughed, and a bird high overhead echoed the sound. "There're times I think that daughter of mine is gonna want to take my place soon as she's tall enough to reach the master switches."

"Sooner," River said. "She's building a ladder."

Kaylee grinned even wider, and pulled her sister-in-law into a one armed embrace. "I figure you're right." She looked down at the thin dress River was wearing, and one of Jayne's old camo-jackets. "Ain't you cold?"

"It's ... bracing."

"That what you call it?" Kaylee shook her head. "Back on Phoros we'd call this snow weather. That bite just before we'd wake up to a tumble."

"It isn't cold enough. Not yet."

"Mal was complaining that his old war wound was playing up," Kaylee went on, repacking her tools into the bag. "Said it was a sure sign of bad weather."

"He only said that so Freya would massage it for him," River pointed out.

"I know he didn't seem too pleased when Simon offered to give him an injection."

"Not the TLC he wanted."

"I'm sure he didn't go without."

"I'm sure he ..."

"River?" Kaylee looked up, finding her best friend staring towards the horizon. "You okay?"

"Not sure. Not ..." Suddenly she was shouting. "Zoe!"

The first mate appeared over the edge of the rock above them. "What is it? Is it Jayne?"

"No." River pointed with an unwavering finger. "Hank." Bending over it took her only a moment to undo the laces on her boots, kicking them off.

Zoe felt her heart miss a beat. "Bad?"

"Yes." River took to her heels, the jacket falling from her shoulders to the ground.

For a long moment Zoe couldn't move, fixed to the stone as if grappling hooks were holding her down, then her natural ability to work under extreme duress came to the fore, and she slid over the edge, her flexed knees absorbing the impact. She ran towards the ATV, calling over her shoulder, "Kaylee, stay here!"

* * *

Freya was running hurrying fingers over the control console.

"What's going on?" Mal asked. He'd been in his bunk going over the books, and heard running boots in the corridor above. Since he was pretty sure Simon wasn't likely to be pounding the decks and the kids weren't yet big enough to make that sort of noise, he hurried up the ladder and along to the bridge.

"Hank's hurt," she said shortly.

"Quicker to take a shuttle?"

"No. He needs Simon. And the infirmary."

"You know where?"

"Yes."

He felt the engines fire and knew she'd circumvented a lot of the safety protocols, but he wasn't going to argue, not this time. Because this time it had to be bad.

* * *

The hunt had been surprisingly satisfying, taking all of his skill to approach the small herd without them bolting. Indeed, as he'd begun to settle himself, pick the right target, the wind had changed and they'd caught his scent, a moment later flashing their white scuts at him as they ran. Still, he'd been ready for just such a possibility. The landscape was such that they were forced to travel in a large semi-circle to get away from him, and he ran up the small hill, boots pounding the dirt, until he stood on top, trying to calm his breathing and his heart rate, aiming at where he knew they were going to appear any second ...

There. Fast. Very fast. Swerving even as they exited the lower ground.

He aimed, letting his instincts take over, his finger tightening on the trigger almost before he was aware of the action.

A young buck fell in a tangle of legs, dead before he hit the ground, the others parting around his body and carrying on until the disappeared into the distance.

Jayne grinned, a feral look in his eyes. No matter that he was now a family man, that he'd give up his own life before he'd let anything happen to River, or to Caleb, but sometimes he needed to be what he was underneath ... a hunter. Before it had been men, and now it was venison, but the skills were the same.

Loping towards his kill, he went down onto his heels next to the corpse. Steam was rising from the bullet hole just behind the left eye, glassy and unseeing. He looked the deer over – it was the one he'd chosen before, not quite mature, but with a good amount of meat on him. The damaged antler suggested he'd already been practising fighting, but he was probably never going to be big enough to take his own females. Better he supply Mallory with food for the winter.

Jayne pulled Binky from the scabbard at his waist, preparing to start cutting, then he rocked on his heels.

_Jayne!_

River, but an anxious River, worried, upset. _Moonbrain? What is it?_

_Hank._

He didn't think. In a moment he was up and running towards the old Alliance camp, the deer carcase forgotten.

* * *

River didn't think. She just ran. She had felt Freya abandon lessons and tell the children to go to their rooms while she ran to the bridge. She knew the second Zoe had the mule powered up, speeding across the dirt to find her husband. She knew the moment her brother let loose a stream of Chinese obscenities as he made the cold blue room ready.

These things she knew, but didn't have to think about. And somewhere in front of her, getting closer, was a miasma of crimson pain, tinged with growing black.

She leaped a fallen tree trunk, the wet ground beyond grabbing at her bare feet with fingers of sucking cold, but she pulled away, skirting a rock and startling a flock of somethings that flew up into the sky, calling in protest.

Closer. Blacker.

A final burst of speed, ignoring the burning in her muscles, the need to breathe, the desire to stop. _No time_.

There. There.

He was wedged into the gap between a tree and a sandy bank, upright but slumped.

She slowed, her eyes flicking over his form even as she reached him.

Blood, there on his belly. Chest still moving. Move coat. Shirt. Armour. Armour. Armour with a hole in it. No. Ignore that until later. The hole important. Pumping life. Be like the little Dutch boy from Earth-that-was and plug it with a finger.

Hank groaned.

Something behind her, and for a moment she wondered whether to turn and kill quickly.

"Riv."

It was Jayne.

"I think it went through," she said quietly.

He nodded, pushing himself into the tiny gap behind the pilot. "Yep, it did." Using the knife he had been intending to gut the deer with, this time he grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt, slicing a long strip from the body. Quickly wadding it up he slit Hank's coat and shirt, pushing his hand through. Steam turned the air liquid, and he could feel blood slipping down. "Got it," he said, pressing firmly.

Hank would have screamed but he didn't have the energy. Instead he tried to tell them to stop, but all that came from his lips was a whisper.

River heard the susurration of breath, felt it move the hair on her cheek. "Hold on," she murmured. "Zoe will kill you if you die on her."

"They coming?" Jayne asked, not liking the amount of blood that had already dripped onto the dirt beneath Hank.

"Close."

"Better be closer'n that."

"Here."

A faint hum turned into a roar, and the ATV slid sideways as Zoe braked hard. Before the engine had even stopped turning over she was down on the ground, running to her husband.

"Baby?" she asked, her fingertips touching his cheek.

"Gut shot," Jayne said.

"We have to get him to Simon."

"They're coming. Now."

Indeed, a different, deeper bellow announced the Firefly coming in to land, dead leaves and loose scrub flying in the vortices created by the downdrafts. Almost before the ship had touched earth the ramp was down, and Simon was running out into the thin sunshine, his medical bag clutched in his hand.

"River," he said quietly as he skidded to a halt, Mal barely half a dozen steps behind him.

"Through and through," she murmured.

The young doctor nodded, already taking an emergency foam bandage from his bag. "Here," he said to Jayne. "As much as you can, straight into the wound."

Jayne nodded, immediately making the hole in Hank's clothes bigger so he could see what he was doing. "He's bleeding something bad."

"He might have nicked an artery. Or damaged a kidney from the position." Simon had ripped open Hank's shirt, his eyebrows barely raising as he saw his sister's finger knuckle deep in the entrance wound. "He's wearing armour? And it still penetrated?"

_Later_, River dripped into his mind.

Tugging a second foam canister from his medical kit, he nodded, his demeanour that of a professional, not a friend, then said, "Ready?"

"Yes."

On an unspoken three – two – one River removed her finger, blood immediately pumping from the hole. Simon inserted the nozzle of the bandage and squeezed.

Mal, standing back, felt useless, not able to help, so he let his feet do his thinking for him and started searching the ground. It was only the work of a moment to find the blood trail. Following it, he skirted the sandy bank, finally coming back out into the watery sunshine between two high clumps of rocks to find himself looking down on the old Alliance camp.

It was deserted, the perimeter fencing broken, missing entirely in a number of places. It looked like twenty-odd buildings on the surface, but he knew these places of old, and there were probably at least twice that many dug into the ground, on perhaps three or four levels. Still, this was where Hank had been shot – there was a spatter of blood on the rock behind him, and ... yes, the spent bullet. Mal picked it up, turning it over in his fingers.

_Mal._

He turned and ran back, pushing the bullet into his coat pocket.

"I need your help," Simon said. "He's wedged firmly, but if we don't do this carefully the wounds will tear and ..." He stopped.

"Then we'd better do it carefully," Zoe said.

"Tell us what to do," Mal said.

Between them, Jayne behind with his entire body supporting Hank's, they managed to loosen him enough to be able to lie him flat.

Simon heaved a silent sigh of relief. "Now, up onto the mule."

"I can carry him," Jayne offered.

"No. As little jolting as possible, or the wounds might tear open."

"Frey has the infirmary ready," River added.

They lifted Hank up, keeping him flat, lowering him as gently onto the ATV as possible, just as if he was made of the most delicate china. Zoe immediately climbed next to him, Simon the other side.

Mal got behind the control yoke and without a word drove towards Serenity.

The silence surged back, leaving River and Jayne standing alone. They gazed at each other.

"It wasn't me," the big man said slowly.

"I know."

"We went in different directions. And I only fired the once."

River put her hand on his arm. "Someone else."

"You got any idea who?"

She shook her head slowly. "No."

Jayne's lips thinned. "Gorram place. They should've burned this dump out instead o' Shadow."

"It wasn't your fault."

He looked at her, his blue eyes as cold as ice. "Yeah, yeah it was. I should've made him stay with me, squeamish or not."

"Hank is his own man."

"Well he ain't gonna end up buried next to Indigo. And whoever did it ain't gonna get away with it either."

She squeezed his bicep. "Agreed."

He took a deep breath. "Better get the shuttle prepped so I can go find Kaylee."

"She's back at Mallory's."

"And you'd better go help your bro."

She nodded, her dark eyes fixed on his blue gaze. "Hank is strong. Stronger than he would ever admit."

"Yeah. He's a good man."

River reached up onto her toes and kissed his cheek. "Yes." Then she took to her heels again, her hair flying behind her as she ran to the Firefly.

He followed, his feet slower, his mind full of dark, rolling thoughts.


	11. Chapter 11

In contrast to the almost frenetic activity of the previous few minutes – Mal driving the mule into Serenity's cargo bay, Freya ready with a stretcher to transfer Hank into the infirmary, Simon and River removing the pilot's clothes as quickly as possible – the next hour seemed to move through treacle.

Simon was fully prepared to have to order Zoe out of the cool blue room, but was surprised to realise she was nowhere to be seen. "Where –"

"With Ben," his sister said quietly, pulling on a pair of white latex gloves.

"Of course."

River knew, and still didn't say, that Bethie and Ethan had the other children in her room, but Ben needed his mother right now, just as much as she needed him.

Mal helped take off Hank's armour, idly wondering what would have happened to his pilot if he hadn't been wearing it, considering, then stepped back.

"You need me," he murmured to Freya as she removed as much of the blood from Hank's chest as she could, "you just yell."

"I will," she responded just as quietly, concentrating on not disturbing the flowering of emergency foam bandage that emerged from the wound.

_It's bad, isn't it?_ he thought carefully.

_It's not good._ She glanced up into his face. "He'll be fine, Mal," she said, giving the lie easily.

He understood. Thinking was one thing – she never lied in her thoughts to him – but maybe saying it aloud would make it true.

"Ready?" Simon asked, looking from River to Freya, visually checking the bags of blood, saline and other supplies ready for use.

They both nodded, but it was River who said, "Ready, _ge-ge_."

He took a deep breath, then used a scalpel to open an incision alongside the solid foam.

Mal watched for a good long while, as always quietly amazed at his luck in having such a man as Simon Tam on his crew. Without him he didn't doubt that most of them would be the worse off, quite possibly dead, and while things had happened because of his presence that had changed all their lives, at least for the most part they still had them. And Hank had the best doctor outside the Core, and probably inside it too.

He took a deep breath, holding it until he felt his lungs were going to explode, then released it slowly, as if in doing so he could give Hank his own strength, make sure his first mate wasn't a widow for the second time.

The beeps from the monitors increased in pace, almost stuttering in their haste to race each other to the finish line, but Simon simply continued his work, River passing him instruments before he asked, Freya adding her hands to his inside Hank's belly. After a minute the beeps steadied, slowed, counting off the seconds instead of slicing them into nothing.

Mal felt his own heart start beating again, and knew he wasn't helping. Instead he walked up the steps into the cargo bay, two at a time, determined to keep himself busy.

Not that it helped. Settling the old ATV back into its normal spot under the hovermule merely gave his brain time to think, and what it came up with didn't settle his stomach any easier. His inclination was to run, make sure everyone was on board and take off, ditch this _niou se_ planet to fend for itself, but that meant tying Jayne up and tossing him in the hold for at least a week – there'd be no other way of making him leave.

He felt the shuttle reattach, and it was barely settled into its cradle before the door opened and Kaylee flew out.

"Cap'n?" she asked, seeing him down on the floor of the bay.

"He's still alive, _mei-mei_," he assured her.

"Can I ..."

"Simon's working."

"I won't interfere."

"Then I'm sure he wouldn't mind knowing you're around." He smiled a little, just a lift of his lips.

She nodded, immediately running down the stairs, almost falling over her own feet as she hurried into the common area.

Mal waited, and it wasn't long before Jayne ducked his head out of the shuttle doorway. "Took you long enough," Mal said.

Jayne shrugged. "Had to go pick up my guns." He stepped out onto the catwalk, lugging a deer carcase after him. "Seemed a shame to leave this behind too."

"Better butcher it outside."

"I intend to." Lifting it up Jayne tossed it over the edge, and the deer landed on the deck with a lifeless thud.

"Did you have to do that?" Mal complained.

"Didn't splash." He stomped down the stairs.

"Did you tell Mallory?"

"As much as she'd let me. Said it was none of her affair and closed the door in my face."

Mal stirred uneasily. "You think she knows something?"

"No idea." He reached the bay floor and stared at Mal, hardly any expression in his eyes. "The doc still working?"

"Hank's still alive, if that's what you mean."

The big man shrugged again. "Sure."

"Jayne –"

"Better get on getting this cut up into steaks, don't'cha think?" Jayne asked, grabbing one of the deer's hind legs and walking towards the bay doors, dragging it behind him.

Mal watched him go without further interruption.

_He doesn't mean it, jia yan._ River's voice echoed slightly in his mind without going through his ears first.

_Oddly enough I figured that, xiao nu._

_It's because he cares_ _- he just isn't practised at showing it._

Suppressing a chuckle he turned away from the sight of his ex-merc jointing the deer out in the weak sunshine. _Just so long as he knows we'll probably be talkin' about this again._

River sighed heavily, quite a feat for a mental exclamation. _He knows._

This time Mal let the smile slip onto his lips, even as he walked back through the common area. Kaylee was glued to the window, watching the proceedings as if dynamite wouldn't move her. She didn't even acknowledge him as he moved past her towards the lower crew quarters.

Stopping outside a half-closed door, he called softly, "Zo?"

"Come in."

He slid the door open and stepped inside. "Hey."

"Hey." His first mate was sitting on the bed, her son curled up next to her, his head in her lap. He had his thumb in his mouth, something he'd have been told off about otherwise, but at the moment he needed the comfort. "He's asleep," she went on.

"Then I won't –"

"Sit down, Mal."

Swallowing, partly at her use of his first name, he lowered himself to the bed, attempting not to disturb the boy. Ben snuffled a little, but didn't wake. "You okay?"

"I'm not the one being operated on."

"No. True."

She ran her hand gently through her son's curly brown hair, teasing it with her fingers. "I shouldn't have let him out on his own."

"He was with Jayne."

"Not when he was shot."

"I guess that's the case." His hand wandered towards his pocket and the slug that was still sitting there. "He was wearing his armour."

"He was sensible."

"Seems to me he's been a lot more like that lately."

"After Jayne adjusted it for him, he figured he should wear it." She took a deep breath. "It didn't stop the bullet, though."

"Jayne seems to think it saved his life."

"I'll thank him later."

They sat quietly for a few minutes before Mal murmured, "I'm sorry, Zo."

She turned her dark face on him, her look inscrutable. "Why? You didn't shoot him."

"We know this place isn't safe. I shoulda made him stay on board."

"How many places are safe, Mal?"

She'd used his first name again – even if he hadn't known her as well as he did, this made it as plain as could be. "Not that many," he admitted.

"I don't think there's been a one," she said softly. "Not for a long time. Considering what's happened to us, to our friends ... even Lazarus and Phoros ain't without their dangers."

Mal's mind skittered over the Monster taking Noni Reynolds from Inara's home, Niska's men kidnapping Kaylee's brother Peter and ... and Hank ... "No, reckon they're not."

"You've always said, safest place is out in the Black."

"Yeah."

"I think you're right."

"Law of averages says I have to be sometimes."

She paused a moment, her gaze dropping back to Ben. "We're trying, by the way. In case you were wondering."

Mal was glad of the change of subject. "Trying?"

"For another baby. A brother or sister for Ben." She stroked her son's hair again.

Mal half-closed one eye. "You think that's a good idea?"

"A good ..."

"Ain't one Hank in the 'verse enough, but you wanna populate it with even more?"

For a moment he thought she was going to hit him, and he held his breath, but finally she cracked the very smallest of a smile.

"I'll tell him you said that when he wakes up."

"You do that. In fact, I'll tell him myself." Anything to stop her feeling as guilty as he did himself. "And me and Frey've got first dibs on another kid. Then maybe I'll take petitions."

"From the sounds coming from the shuttle sometimes I think Jayne and River might get there first, sir."

He relaxed, just a notch. 'Sir'. As much as he wished she'd call him Mal, somehow it was more comforting when she didn't. "Have to see about that."

"I'd wait to tell them if I were you, sir."

"Oh, I'll pick my moment."

_Zoe._

One word, dropped into both their minds.

Her eyes met his, and in a moment she was up and running out of the cabin, Ben sitting up and rubbing his face, asking what was happening. Mal was only a step behind her.

"Well?" Zoe was already by the medbed when he got to the infirmary, looking down at the pale, still face of her husband. She put out her hand and touched his untidy brown hair, feeling sweat on her fingers.

Simon looked tired as he stripped the gloves from his hands. "He's lucky."

There was the sound of collective breaths being released.

"Lucky?"

"He's not out of the woods, and he's lost a great deal of blood, but the bullet did less damage than I could possibly have hoped."

Zoe clutched the edge of the bed, and only those who knew her well realised how near she was to collapsing. The thing was they all knew her, really, _really_ well.

Freya pulled a stool under her and River helped her to sit down.

"Tell me," Zoe said, not really noticing the other women.

Simon nodded, realising she needed to know so that she didn't imagine anything worse. "I was worried about his left kidney, and it was nicked, but I've repaired the damage. Otherwise it was stopping the bleeds and stitching up the other injuries, dealing with the shock."

"And?"

He waited until she looked up at him. "Zoe, I won't lie to you. He's still critical, but there's a chance. If I didn't miss anything, if there's no infection, if the blood loss didn't damage his heart ... he has a chance."

"And the luck?"

"He isn't dead."

Zoe nodded. "Keep him that way, will you?"

"I'll do my best."

There was a tug at Mal's pants leg, and he looked down into the coffee face of Benjamin Malcolm Hoban Mills. "Hey." Mal swung the little boy up onto his hip and moved away from the infirmary door.

"Is Daddy going to die?" Ben asked, his cheeks wet with tears.

"Well, he ain't well, but your Uncle Simon's doing his very best."

"Uncle Simon's a good doctor," Ben agreed.

"That he is."

"Can I see Daddy?"

"I don't think that'd be a good idea. Not right now."

"Please?"

Mal was about to say no, but a tap on his shoulder made him turn. It was River.

"Better he sees so he knows," she said, holding out her arms.

"You think?"

"Serenity child."

For a long moment Mal wished he'd never heard that phrase, but then he sighed deeply and passed Ben across. "Just for a minute," he said firmly.

River nodded, carrying Ben into the infirmary and standing by Zoe. The dark-skinned woman looked up, and after a second the little boy was handed over again to sit on his mother's lap, talking quietly to her.

"Daddy?"

Mal looked down. "Ethan." He went down onto his heels to look into his own son's blue eyes.

"Is Uncle Hank okay?"

"It'll take time, but I think he's going to be." Briefly Mal wondered at the ease of hoping for the best that bordered slightly on the lying, but the look on Ethan's face suggested he understood more than he should. "Ethan, I don't know," he added quickly. "Simon's the best, and your Ma and Aunt River were helping. But I ain't a doctor."

"Then he'll be fine." Ethan looked determined.

"You think?" Mal pushed his son's bangs back from his forehead. "You can see that?"

Ethan nodded firmly. Then shrugged. "Is hoping the same?"

"Maybe." Mal pulled the little boy towards him. "How are the other kids?"

Ethan snuggled up to him, his arms around his father's neck. "Unhappy."

"Not surprising."

"Are you going to kill the man who shot Uncle Hank?"

Mal was still, not moving, shocked by the words coming out of his son's mouth. "Ethan ..." The arms around his neck tightened, but there were no more words.

_Gorramit,_ Mal thought to himself, shame flooding through him. _What the diyu have I done to my family?_

_Nothing. _

He looked up to see Freya standing next to them. _He shouldn't know about things like that._

_Serenity child._

_Shit._ He stood up, Ethan still clasped to him, and moved across the common area to the yellow sofa, sitting down carefully so his son was in his lap. Freya joined them, leaning against him.

_It's how life is. I wish it were different, but he understands._

_He's five!_

_I know._

"Use words," Ethan muttered, his face still in his father's chest.

"Sorry, Ethan," Mal said. "It's just sometimes your Ma and me need to talk about things we have to keep to ourselves."

Ethan sighed deeply. "I know."

"Think you could do me a favour?" Freya asked, stroking her son's back.

"'S, Mama." Ethan sniffed loudly and looked up.

"Can you get the other children and take them up to the kitchen? I think we could all do with something to eat, don't you?"

"'Kay, Mama." He rubbed his nose. "Not Ben, though."

"No, not Ben. He needs to be with Auntie Zoe for a while."

Ethan nodded, taking a moment more in Mal's embrace before scrambling down to the deck. "'Kay, Mama," he said, running off to fulfil the request.

Mal watched him go, seeing the seriousness he shouldn't have at that age, then laid his head back on the sofa. "Shit, Frey."

"He's your son, Mal," she said softly. "This is his home. And as much as I'd give to make it that he didn't know about things like this, he does."

"He asked if I was gonna kill the man that shot Hank." Even saying it himself the words still stabbed like a knife in his gut.

"Are you?"

He glanced sharply at her. "Don't."

"It's a perfectly valid question."

"I don't wanna kill anyone."

"Neither do I." She leaned her elbow on the sofa back so she was closer to his face. "But something bad's going on here, and I know you." She touched his cheek, feeling his beard starting to push through the skin. "You came here to give Jayne some kind of closure, but this changes things."

"We should go. Right now."

Freya smiled, just a tilt of her lips, a faint echo of something wider. "I might have agreed before you met Mallory. Before someone attacked an innocent man."

He stared back into the ceiling over his head, idly counting the rivets, giving him a second to think. "Hank's about as non-threatening as you can get."

"That he is."

"He comes up against anyone pointing a gun at him and he's more likely to say something he thinks is funny and run like hell."

"Eminently sensible."

"He calls it being a coward."

"Zoe doesn't." She waited as Ethan and the other children came out of the lower quarters and hurried up the stairs, the little boy making sure they didn't peer into the infirmary.

"I know," Mal murmured.

"He's just like you."

"You make it sound like that's a good thing."

Freya leaned across and put a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Oh, Mal. It's the best that could ever happen."

He felt a warmth spread through him, and he turned enough so that their lips met. "You do talk _fei hua, ai ren_," he said into her mouth.

Kaylee watched them from her perch on the steps, staying silent, feeling unnecessary.

After what seemed like an age Freya sighed and let go, getting to her feet. "I'd better go and make those sandwiches."

"Jayne's cutting us some steaks," Mal pointed out.

"I don't think the children will wait that long." She smiled slightly crookedly. "And you'd better go and talk to him while he's a captive audience."

"I wasn't planning on it."

She patted her pocket and nodded down to his. "I think you were."

"Witch."

"Absolutely." She blew him a kiss then headed for the stairs, briefly looking into the infirmary before going up towards the kitchen.

She was right, of course, Mal knew. There were questions Jayne might have some answers to, and there really was no time like the present.


	12. Chapter 12

Jayne had finished his butchering, and now sat on the edge of the ramp, a large cold box next to him, more than likely filled with the results. Every so often he'd reach into a pile of bones and other remains to toss a handful out into the dirt. From the comparative darkness of the bay Mal watched in surprise as a grey, dog-like animal darted out from a patch of bushes and grabbed the morsel, scurrying back under cover with his prize.

"It's a Lupe," Jayne said quietly.

Mal had to smile. Even with his concentration elsewhere the big man wasn't easy to creep up on.

"Lupe?" Mal asked, joining him.

Jayne shrugged. "Kinda like a cross between a dog and a wolf. Mean bastards if you corner 'em, but they gotta eat, just like the rest of us."

For a moment Mal wondered whether to point out the similarities between his ex-merc and the animal in question, then decided that discretion was the better part of not having to pick up his teeth. "You sound like you know them."

"Made their acquaintance once."

"Let me guess. You were lying on the dirt with a broken leg."

Jayne looked around, a startled expression on his face. "How did ... You catching being psychic off Frey?"

"Worse things to catch, I conjure," Mal said, smiling. "But this was honestly just a guess."

"Yeah, well, maybehaps you were right. They sure took an interest in me while Indigo was gettin' me ready to travel. Did occur to me I might end up as dog food. Considered shooting 'em, just to make 'em stop staring at me."

"And yet you're feeding them now."

"Indigo wouldn't let me. Said it weren't their fault they ate carrion."

Mal wasn't sure if he was honestly talking about himself or other dead animals. "Indigo was right. No point killing when you don't need to."

"S'what Indigo said." Jayne managed a slight tilt to his sometimes cruel lips. "Maybe I can persuade 'em to go gnaw on one or other of the Tanners."

"You never know." Mal didn't speak for a long while, watching the Lupe get a little braver and wolfing down a handful of what looked like intestines without dragging it under cover. "Funny to think little Fiddler might be related."

Jayne finally chuckled. "Hey, don't feed the runt for a week and you'll find him chewing your ankle afore you can spit."

"Don't think I'll try it. Bethie'd be as likely to make us draw lots to see who was gonna donate an organ to him."

"Fried with onions."

"More'n likely."

Jayne rubbed at the bloodstains on his hands, only some of which belonged to the deer. "So what did you wanna talk about?"

"Hank's outta surgery."

"Figured he might be. He likely to survive?"

"Simon's ... hopeful."

"Zoe'll be pleased."

"Well, let's just say she's happy not to be looking for a new husband quite yet." Mal knew Jayne wasn't quite as cold-hearted as he appeared, but it was easier on both of them not to push.

"And?"

"Eh?"

"Mal, I might not be psychic, but I know there's something more."

Serenity's captain reached into his pocket and pulled out the metal slug. "I found this, managed to backtrack to where Hank got shot." He dropped it into Jayne's stained palm. "Looks kinda ... odd."

Jayne stared at it, his cobalt eyes not blinking. "Ah ..." Nothing else was forthcoming.

"Jayne. Tell me."

The big man took a deep breath, releasing it slowly through his nose before saying, "I wasn't that far, not really. And the way the wind was running, I should've heard a shot. I didn't."

"Do you think he used a suppressor?"

"Nope. Maybe I wondered before I saw this, but now ..." He tossed the bullet into the air and caught it again, holding it tightly enough in his fist to make his knuckles white.

"Jayne, I ain't in the mood to play games."

"Me neither." Out of the corner of his eye Jayne saw the Lupe approaching a little closer, but this time he ignored the animal. "What'dya know about Sharps?"

"Sharps? Ain't that a gun from Earth-that-was?"

"Once upon a time, yeah. A rifle. Anyone selling one of 'em nowadays could probably buy the small moon of their choice with the proceeds."

Mal wasn't going to argue. If there was one thing Jayne knew about, it was weaponry of all kinds, and particularly anything portable. "I somehow doubt it was one of those."

"No. 'Cept the name was re-surrected 'bout thirty years ago by Lewis and Cameron."

Even Mal had heard of them, a company sucked up by Blue Sun the minute the war had ended, pretty much like the makers of the Feldman that Zoe had carried on the Empress of Sihnon. Lewis and Cameron, though, were more rarified, kind of like the Crown Jewellers of the Alliance. "I don't recall them producing anything like a Sharps."

"For maybe a coupla years. Mostly for high-ups in the Government, a coupla thousand of 'em maybe as gifts among the stiffnecks on Osiris and the like, but some managed to make their way down to the Rim."

"You sound like you know. Far as I recall, you ain't got one in your collection," Mal said slowly.

"Not me, no."

Something about the way he said those three words had the hair on the back of Mal's neck standing on end. "Jayne, you're nibbling around the edge of this. Take a bite and tell me what you know."

Jayne took a moment to pick up the last of the deer carcase and tossed it towards the Lupe, who grabbed it between sharp white teeth and dragged it into the bushes. "It's gas powered, damn near silent, which is how come I didn't hear a gorram thing. They tried a smaller version, a hand gun, but it tended to blow up, so they stuck to the rifle version." He snorted half a laugh. "Lefty Maguire had one of the pistols, least before he got to be known as Lefty."

Mal tried to ignore the mental picture flashing across his brain. "And you're sure about it being one of these Sharps rifles that fired that bullet?"

The ex-merc held up the bullet, turning it so it caught the weak autumn sun, showing a faint purple sheen on its surface that might just have been a trick of the light. "Sharps is the only thing that I know of can fire a slug like this." He tossed it to Mal, who caught it easily. "And only Lewis and Cameron made 'em."

"Already seen it, Jayne. And it looks pretty standard to me."

"You said yourself, there's something odd about it, but yeah, it's standard weight, size ... 'cept it's got a gel core and is coated in Herschelium."

That rang a bell, partly because they'd had dealings with Herschelium before, when they used it to disable the Golden Dragon a few months back. "That's the stuff the Alliance use in their armour," Mal said slowly, looking closer at the slug, realising the hint of purple wasn't make believe. "Makes it bulletproof."

"Yeah. Only Lewis and Cameron realised it also made bullets that much more likely to get through that armour, so when the war started the Feds told 'em to stop production in case the Independents got their hands on any."

"I've a notion they wouldn't've liked that."

"If'n the Browncoats had, you might not have lost."

But Mal didn't want to talk over old times. "Jayne, you're still only telling me half the story. You had an idea it was a Sharps before I showed you the bullet." The big man didn't respond, and Mal could feel the tenuous hold on his temper getting weaker. "Dammit, Jayne, I've got a pilot in the infirmary and a first mate who's already been widowed once in this lifetime. Tell me."

"Hank's armour is pretty good stuff," Jayne said at last. "It shoulda been able to stop a rifle round, even that close, and even if it didn't then the armour shoulda stripped the outer coating on its way through." He nodded towards the bullet in Mal's fingers. "It ain't even that deformed."

"No, it's not," Mal agreed. "Unlucky for Hank."

"Nah." Jayne stood up suddenly, scaring the Lupe who had been slinking nearer into running back into the tall grasses, tail between his legs. "If Hank hadn't been wearing his armour he'd be dead. Really dead."

"There's levels of dead?" Mal asked, getting to his feet.

"With one of them? Yeah." He leaned down and picked up a stone, throwing it as hard as he could into the distance. "That was the other thing about the Sharps ammo. The gel core makes it ... I don't know the word, but it kinda vibrates."

"Oscillates?" Mal suggested.

"Yeah. That's it. Soon as it leaves the gun, it starts ... that vibrating ... and when it hits its target it's got enough momentum to rip a body apart from the inside. 'Cept hitting the armour the way it did, at the angle it did ..."

Mal understood. Hank's armour had reduced the oscillations to almost nothing, and the short distance through his body hadn't been enough to get it going again, so he'd been left with much more of a conventional bullet wound. Jayne was right – Hank had been very lucky indeed. "How do you know about all this? I know you read what you can get on guns, but this ... you seem to know more'n you're telling me."

"We found a couple," Jayne admitted. "Me and Indigo. In that stash in the camp."

"Did you sell them?"

"Nah." He picked up the coolbox and balanced it on his shoulder, walking up the ramp into the darker interior. "We were crazy and broke, but not that crazy and never that rutting broke. If we'd tried it woulda got back to someone, and we didn't need that kinda trouble."

Mal followed, closing up the doors after them. "What did you do with them?"

"Left 'em hid. We might not've wanted anything to do with 'em, but we didn't want anyone else to either."

"You thought you might be able to come back one day and retrieve them," Mal hazarded, knowing his crewman perhaps better than he'd like.

"Maybe." Jayne wasn't going to be embarrassed by his own proclivities, his bootsteps firm as he crossed the bay. "Never know what a man'll do when he hits rock bottom."

"Kinda glad you never found out."

"Maybe I did. Then someone offered me full run of the kitchen." Jayne stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "But it's kinda a coincidence, don't you think?"

"You're considering Indigo might've gone back for one."

"I thought about it."

"And whoever killed him took it."

"I don't know. I never asked Mallory about Indigo's stuff."

"Then maybe you should."

Jayne looked at him, surprised. "We ain't leaving?"

"You want us to?"

"No. Someone killed Indigo, tried to kill Hank ... But I thought maybe you'd want to run."

"It's my first instinct, I'll admit. But like you said, someone tried to kill Hank, and I ain't gonna let that go by without at least trying to find out who. And why."

"Why?"

They both felt Serenity powering up beneath their feet, but were too engrossed to really notice.

"Jayne, Hank ain't a threat to anyone. And I for one think it's too much of a coincidence that he got shot that close to the Alliance camp."

"If we ain't leaving, where are we going?" Okay, maybe the big man had noticed the Firefly taking off after all.

"Back to the port. And the sheriff's office."

"Sheriff? You mean Cutter McCoy?"

"My pilot's been shot. I need to report it."

"But to McCoy?" Jayne dropped the coldbox to the decking by his feet. "Mal, he was in the Tanners' pockets back in the day, and I can't see it having changed over the past few years."

"I'm counting on that."

A lot of people had underestimated Jayne in the past, and a fair percentage of them had lived to regret it. Admittedly, not lived very long, but that didn't mitigate the fact the big man had a sort of raw intelligence which allowed him to surprise people. Mal, in point of fact, wasn't surprised when Jayne suddenly chuckled, which was okay since he'd known him for quite some time.

"You really wanna shove a stick in that particular wasp's nest?" Jayne huffed a breath through his nose. "Mal, I knew you were crazy, but I kinda thought you'd grown outta being suicidal."

"I'm just doing my duty," Mal insisted. "Being a good Alliance citizen."

"There's a coupla words I didn't think I'd ever hear you say."

Mal smiled slightly. "Okay, so maybe I'm being a sneaky Browncoat _hwoon dahn_, but I'm figuring that if we stir stuff up enough we might just get to find out a few things."

"Before or after they shoot you?"

"Hey, I wasn't planning on getting shot at all. But there's more going on here than meets the eye, and where I would've just taken off from here and never looked back, someone tried to kill Hank, and that makes it not just about you anymore. 'Sides, Zoe ain't gonna let it rest either."

"Can't say I'm surprised." Another thought occurred to him. "Frey know you're sticking your pretty neck out again?"

"Yeah, she knows. So does your wife – she's the one flying the ship." River had dropped her intentions into his mind before she'd fired up Serenity.

"Moonbrain knows a lot about justice," Jayne admitted. "Me, I never had much need for it."

Mal started up the stairs past him. "I don't know what we're likely to find out, or if it'll ever get as far as a courtroom, but let's turn over a few stones, see what crawls out."

Jayne was never going to say thank you, nor confess that he felt a weight lift from his shoulders, but he nodded firmly. "Want me to come see Cutter with you?"

Pausing on the top step, Mal turned to look down. "Want to renew your friendship?"

"We ain't friends," Jayne said. "In fact he'd prefer to see me strung up with my heels kicking. I just thought maybe you'd like some back-up."

"I'm going to report a crime, Jayne. Not commit a murder."

"You sure I can't persuade you?"

"No." Mal smiled again. "But if I'm not back in an hour you can come break me outta jail."

"Grenades?"

"If you insist."

"Shiny."

"Right now, though, you'd better get those steaks in the freezer before they start to stink the place out." He stepped up to the catwalk and crossed to the door.

"Okay, Mal." Jayne hefted the cold box onto his shoulder again.

"Oh, and you go around saying my neck is pretty and I'll be telling River," Mal added as he disappeared.

"Better'n saying what I really think," Jayne muttered, but there was just the ghost of a smile on his lips.

* * *

The sun was heading towards its low zenith by the time Mal left the ship the next morning, but very few people would have been able to point to it. Heavy grey clouds had replaced the thin blue skies of the last couple of days, and he could smell snow on the breeze. Maybe Kaylee was right and they were going to have a dusting.

He'd not had a good night himself, but then neither had any of the rest of the crew. They were all concerned about Hank, even more so when Simon admitted there should have been sign of the pilot waking up by now. Zoe even asked if he was keeping her husband sedated on purpose, but the young doctor assured her that the only medication he was giving Hank was painkillers and muscle relaxants so he didn't strain anything when he did stir. Simon went on to say that it wasn't unheard of for someone to be in a coma of their own accord, it being the brain's way of dealing with hurt, and allowing the body time to heal, but ... There was always that _but_.

Supper had been quiet, and the table emptier than usual. Zoe had taken a plate of food down to the common area, Ben not leaving her side, just so she could watch Hank's still form through the doorway to the infirmary. Simon stayed inside the cool room, munching absently on sandwiches Kaylee had made for him, and making notes in one of his journals.

Kaylee herself wasn't much better. She pushed her food around her plate, chewing on the inside of her lip instead until she was afraid she could taste the tin of blood. Bethie, her normally ebullient appetite suppressed, kept her eyes on her mother for most of the time, for once not asking for seconds.

It was Ethan Mal felt the most concern for, and not just because the boy was his son. Freya had explained what seemed like a long time ago that Ethan was empathic, able to feel what other people felt, and all this worry wasn't doing him any good. The little boy's face was grey, and his mother's wasn't much better, so it didn't take much cajoling to make everyone take an early night, and his suggestion that Ethan stay with Jesse in the nursery wasn't met with the usual emphatic shake of the head, and Mal's concern deepened when his son didn't complain about being picked up either.

_He'll be all right,_ Freya assured him, tucking their boy into his old bed, lifting the covers up to press around his old knitted alligator, the very same toy Hank had given him such a long time before.

"Are you sure?" Mal asked quietly as she slid the door across.

"We get hurt. It happens."

"That doesn't make it right." He started to unbutton his shirt but tiredness seemed to overwhelm him and he sat down on the bed, his suspenders halfway down his arms.

"No, it doesn't."

"You know, seeing the table tonight ..." Mal shook his head. "It made me think too much of the weeks after Miranda. Even when everyone was healed physically ..."

She hadn't been there, but he knew she understood what he meant. With all the time she'd spent stepping nimbly through his thoughts, she had to have seen the guilt he still carried for the losses, the empty chairs at table, no matter how much she told him he didn't have to. Probably something to do with all that church-going he did when he was young, when his own Ma would put on her Sunday-best and they'd drive the buckboard into town and pray for their souls. Do unto others, and all that.

"Stop it," she said mildly.

"Witch."

"Right." She went down on her heels in front of him. "Hank's still alive, and he's going to recover."

"You think?"

"I know." She tapped her temple.

"I thought River was the one who saw the future." He smiled slightly, just a little tilt to the corner of his mouth.

"Mal, Hank isn't going to die."

"You promise?"

"Yes."

"He'd better not make you break your word." He exhaled heavily. "Zoe won't forgive him, and neither will I."

"I'm sure he knows that." She straightened up, unbuttoning her shirt and turning away from him to glance into the mirror over the sink unit. "Mal, you and Zoe ... You've been together a long time."

He didn't suspect anything, just concentrated on attempting to lever off his boot with his toe, too tired or too lazy to do it properly. "Sometimes it seems like most of my life."

"So why didn't you ..."

He lifted his head to stare at her. "You gonna get all jealous over her now, like you used to over Inara?"

"No," she insisted, still not looking at him. "I just wondered. She's a damn fine woman, beautiful, strong ... just your type."

"Maybe." Mal couldn't help the slight smile. She was describing herself, even if she didn't consciously know it. "And maybe there was a time, right at the beginning ..." His memory tossed him the bone of a static image, frozen like an old fashioned capture, of Zoe in that gorram purple armour, her rifle pointing directly at him. He'd wondered at that point if he was ever going to feel another heartbeat, let alone see another sunrise, but she'd surprised him the first of many times.

"But you didn't give into it. Did you?"

_Dammit, Frey,_ he thought, but said, "No." He stood up, crossing the small room in a single stride to stand next to her. With gentle hands he turned her around. "No, Frey. Never did."

She gazed into his eyes. "Because I'd understand if you had."

"We never did anything we shouldn't," he insisted. "Well, not over and above facing down the _chi wu_ Alliance. And we never had sex."

"Or made love?"

He internalised the sigh. As much as he wanted to understand women, he knew he didn't, and somehow he was aware that situation was never going to change, particularly as his darling wife was unlike any woman he'd ever met before. "Or made love," he agreed.

"'Cause you know they're different."

"I figured that out a while back." He steered her to the bed, making her sit next to him. "A'course, that doesn't mean we didn't sleep together," he joked. "There were some cold nights, and it was either snuggling or waking up a frozen popsicle."

Her mouth twitched. "Well, if it was a case of surviving, then I think I can forgive you."

"Good."

"Why didn't you give in, though?"

He looked into her face, but there was only honest query in it, not the scab-picking she occasionally indulged in. She just wanted to know, and he wanted to be truthful. "Frey, there ain't a reason, not really. You're more'n aware of what it was like – sometimes you couldn't even get space to piss by yourself, let alone do anything more ... passionate. And by the time we got some R&R ... it was already too late. Zoe was my corporal, I was her sergeant ..."

"And you don't do that sort of thing."

"Nope."

She smiled softly. "Glad of that."

"Me too."

"And Hank'll be okay."

"I believe you." He paused a moment, then asked the question that had been lurking in his mind ever since he'd seen his pilot bleeding. "Can you ... pick up on who did this?"

"No." Freya sounded annoyed with herself. "No more than River can. Or Bethie, for that matter."

Mal shook his head. "I don't want that little girl looking for folks that'd do that to a man."

"You can't stop her. Hank's her uncle, even if it's not by blood."

"You think Ethan's doing the same?"

She leaned against him and took his hand in hers. "He wants to help."

He stared into her hazel eyes. "Can't you do something? In those lessons of yours? Teach 'em about control, about how it's not good for them to ... to ..."

"To hurt because Hank's hurting?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

"I can try," she conceded. "But Bethie's strong, and Ethan backs her up."

"I guess." He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "You know, I see trouble in the future for that pair."

"You mean as a couple?" Freya laughed, breaking the tension. "There's a few years to go before you need to get down to some serious worrying about that."

"You think? Frey, there's more than one planet I've been to where a girl's had young'ns of her own around her skirts, and she's barely thirteen."

"Mal, you even suggest to Simon that his darling daughter is likely to be a mother in a few years and he's going to shoot you himself."

"I'm just saying –"

"You're just trying to change the subject."

"Yeah, well, what if I am? The idea that my son's trying to ..." He had to stop.

She put her arm around him, her warmth pressed against his shoulder. "I'll talk to him. To them both."

"Thank you," he said honestly, then added, "Is it bad I'm glad Jesse ain't showing no sign of having these kinda talents?"

"You mean that she's normal?"

"Not normal. Hell, I ain't sure anyone on board this boat's actually normal, but ... that she ain't gifted in that sort of way."

Gifted. He called it gifted, and meant it. Her heart swelled, and she pressed closer. "She won't need to be, Mal. She's got her family around her."

"Even if that includes Jayne."

She breathed in his ear. "Even then."

They'd gone to bed just a short while later, for once not making love, just holding each other until they drifted off. Still, he couldn't help waking every half an hour or so, unable to stop listening to every creak and groan of Serenity around him.

He was almost glad to get outside the next morning, striding through the outskirts of town to the sheriff's office. Simon had assured him Hank was, if not doing well, at least not doing badly, and he'd had a quiet conversation with Zoe, who'd obviously not actually gone to bed at all.

The children were notable by their absence, staying in their rooms for company of their own age, while only Jayne was in the cargo bay as he left, doing idle arm curls with a dumbbell that would have made Mal break out in a sweat just lifting it.

"Keep an eye out," Mal said, wrapping his scarf around his neck.

"Wasn't planning on doing anything else."

"I'm kinda surprised River ain't down here, insisting she comes with me."

Jayne shrugged. "Maybe you ain't gonna get shot today."

"Not planning on it." Mal opened the inner door to the airlock. "Not going to go see Mallory again?"

"Nope. Nothing I got to say to her."

Something stirred in the pit of Mal's stomach. "Jayne, I don't want you going off half-cocked. In fact I don't want you going off at all, least not until there's something you can aim at."

"Don't worry about me, Mal," Jayne assured him. "I'll wait."

"Right."

Still, Mal's crew was surely on his mind as he pushed open the door to the sheriff's office, stepping inside and coming almost face to face with the current incumbent.

Cutter McCoy was probably Jayne's age, maybe a year or two younger, but he looked like someone had dropped him in a pickling vat and left him there for the duration. His skin was tanned to a deep mahogany, suggesting hours out in the sunshine, although it was possible this was something in his ancestry from Earth-that-was rather than a love of the outdoors. He had high cheekbones and a hawk nose, while his long black hair was tied back in a ponytail hanging from the nape of his neck, although his hairline looked like it was receding, making his forehead very high.

He was sitting behind an ancient desk, his chair balanced on the two back legs, booted feet up on the old wood. A locked cabinet of a dozen rifles on the metal wall behind him, but all his attention was on the magazine on his lap, open at the centre spread of two naked women. Silicone enhanced breasts defied gravity to point at him.

"You like the articles?" Mal asked, nodding towards the girlie mag.

Mal had been brought up to be polite, with an occasional slipper to his backside when he was young, and more often a spell at weeding the vegetable patch as he got older, and his Ma would have been horrified if he hadn't gotten to his feet when a stranger walked into the room. Cutter McCoy obviously hadn't had the same training, as he merely leaned back further in his chair and put his hand on his sidearm.

"What can I do for you?" McCoy asked in turn.

_Fine,_ Mal thought. _He wants to be all business, that's fine by me._ "I need to report a crime."

"Really. Someone pick your pocket?"

"You get a lot of that around here in Cason's Point, so you?"

"A bit. Mostly by strangers." McCoy shrugged. "And I don't know you."

"I'm Captain Malcolm Reynolds. That's my Firefly out on the dock."

"I seen it."

"And I've got me a man on board's been shot."

"Really." McCoy lowered his chair slowly until the front legs were on the ground, his boots joining them. "A friend of yours?"

"My pilot."

"And how did this accident happen?"

Mal hitched his thumbs into his gunbelt. "Now, I'm pretty fair sure I said it was a crime, which in my book makes it deliberate."

"Well, like I said, we have a quiet town around here. Not much goes on I don't know about, and I don't allow any kind of miscreants."

"Miscreants. That what you call it."

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "So you think someone tried to murder your man."

"Can't see it being anything else."

"Where did it happen?"

"Out near the old Alliance camp."

McCoy's eyes darkened. "That's more or less off-limits. We've had folks hurt there before, taking it into their minds to have a look around, and they're fallen down shafts, over broken concrete, that kind of thing."

"Well, since he didn't fall ..."

"No. You said. But lots of people go hunting around there too, so maybe he was hit by a stray bullet."

"Mmmn."

The sheriff looked annoyed. "He say anything?"

Mal shook his head. "My medic says he's got a fair chance, but he's not woken up yet."

"Then maybe you should wait to accuse anyone until he does." The unspoken _if he does_ hung in the air between them. "I don't take kindly to suggestions of defamation of character."

"Was that what I was suggesting?" Mal pondered. "I kinda thought I was saying it loud and clear." He shrugged. "Well, I figured you'd want to know. Just in case you caught any miscreants might have done the deed. In case there's maybe a serial killer on the loose on Ithaca."

"There ain't."

"Shiny." Mal looked around. "Well, is there anything I need to sign, seeing as I _have_ reported it?"

"Nope. I'll make a note of it." McCoy put his feet back on the table and pushed his chair into balance again. "If I need any more info, I'll wave."

"Think you can find me?"

"Yours is the only ship visiting right now," McCoy said, picking his magazine up again. He turned it from left to right, admiring the images. "See yourself out."

Mal allowed a tiny, cold smile to curve his lips, then strode out into the fading light. Overhead the clouds were thickening even more, and there was the smell of tin on the breeze. He paused for a moment, ostensibly buttoning his coat, but his ears listening for ... yes. There.

In the office Mal could imagine the magazine forgotten as McCoy activated the small Cortex link on his desk. The connection established, he said, "Mrs Tanner. Now."

_"She is engaged at the moment, sir."_ A man's voice, probably aged, stooped. A butler maybe.

"I need to speak to her."

_"Sheriff McCoy, she is engaged. I can ask her to wave you."_

"Fine. You do that."

_"And is there a message, sir?"_

"Yeah. Tell her Wes and Brad've been up to their old tricks again, only maybe they've gone too far this time."

_"Of course sir."_

Mal had heard enough, and strode towards the dock, unaware that someone out in the surrounding hills was watching his every move with high powered binoculars.

* * *

She was slim, on the border of skinny, her serviceable white blouse done up to her neck hiding any cleavage she might have, her long black skirt covering what were probably pale thin legs. Her hair, clean at least, was done up in a low bun, although a tendril had escaped to curl on her shoulder.

Medea Tanner looked her up and down, much as she would do an animal she was planning to buy, but saw nothing special.

"And why do you want to come and work for me?" she asked, one eyebrow questioning.

"Because I understand you are the most successful of all the families on Ithaca," River said. "And I have many skills."

"Really." Medea patted at her own pale blonde hair. "Such as?"

"I am an excellent ladies maid. I can cook. Or tutor children."

"I have a maid, and a cook. And my children are all grown."

"I have green fingers," River went on. "I can grow anything."

"I have a gardener." Medea shook her head. "I can't see you being able to offer anything I don't already own."

"Companionship?"

"Perhaps, but you're far too young. And perhaps too flighty." Her eyes narrowed. "You came from the ship at the Port, yes?"

"Yes. Madam," River added quickly.

"Why do you want to leave them?"

River allowed herself to chew her lip before answering. "It's the people, Madam," she said finally, looking down at her feet. "They're all so ... unrefined."

Medea's face cracked into a slight smile. "Unrefined?"

As if emboldened, River looked up, taking half a step forwards. "Yes, Madam. I used to live in the Core, at least until my father ..." Her voice broke and she took a deep breath. "We fell on hard times, and had to leave. I'm on my own now," she admitted, much quieter. "I had to take any job that I could, and ended up with ..." Another pause, then, on almost nothing more than a whisper, "I have to lock my door at night."

A fleeting glimmer of satisfaction passed through Medea's eyes. "I see."

"I keep looking, but nobody wants to give me a chance."

There was a long period of silence, and River could feel herself being scrutinised. It was mutual, of course, although the old woman's walls were very strong, and the psychic was afraid to push too hard.

After perhaps two minutes Medea finally shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, but I don't think I can help you. I have no vacancy that would do, and if I did there are families I've known for much longer who can supply me with anyone I need. And I don't know you. For all I know you could be a thief on the run."

"Madam ..." River whined.

"Enough." Medea reached into the alligator purse and pulled out a coin, tossing it to River who caught it easily. "For your trouble, but I don't wish to see you here again. And I suggest, if you find it so terrible on board your present ship, you use that to buy your way off."

River allowed her head to drop. "Yes. Thank you." She turned and walked out, aware of Medea's calculating gaze on her back until she was through the door.

Back in the fresh cold air, she allowed the breeze to cleanse her skin before starting back towards the town. The walk would do her good, and perhaps break the memory of those eyes trying to see into her soul. She glanced down at the coin in her palm – a hundred platinum piece. Medea Tanner was nothing if not generous, although it screamed blood money, sending jagged shards of pain up her arm until she thrust it into her pocket. The sounds were muted, but still there, seething through her mind's eye.

She shivered, and not from the cold. Better to think of other things, of hot chocolate when she got back to Serenity, of the arms of her husband, of Mal's approval when she told him what she'd ... learned ...

Oh. That ... wasn't good.

Ah.

* * *

Mal had got back to the ship to find Jayne waiting at the doors. "What is it?" he asked.

"Mal, did you take Riv with you?" the big man wanted to know.

"No. You saw me leave."

"That's what I thought." His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his cargo pants, but Mal was betting they were in fists.

"I take it she's not here."

"Nope."

"Maybe she went to see Mallory."

"She'd'a said."

"Jayne, we're talking about River here." Mal pushed down on the thread of concern that had started to rear up in his belly. "She might not have."

"She woulda to me." Jayne's eyes were scanning the visible horizon. "Gorram moonbrain's up to something."

Mal turned, looking for himself. "Did you ask Frey?"

"Yeah. She said she couldn't feel anything. Zoe's too worried 'bout Hank. Short stub said the same."

So he was worried enough to ask Bethie. "Okay." Mal took a deep breath. "I'll get Frey, then tell Zoe she's to join us. We'll search." A thought occurred to him. "Maybe Simon –"

"She ain't hurt," Jayne interrupted quickly. "I'd feel it."

"Okay," Mal said, wondering if his active imagination was ever going to stop giving him possible scenarios, this time ones involving River being on the wrong end of a Sharps herself. "Better get yourself a coat."

"Yeah."

Mal ran up the stairs, looking first towards the bridge and noticing the Hank-sized hole before turning towards the kitchen. Freya was there, sitting making notes on her lesson plan pad, although the children were nowhere to be seen.

"I thought it best not to, at least for a day or two," she said before he had a chance to speak. "They need a little down time."

He nodded, crossing to the counter and pouring half a mug of coffee. "Grab your guns," he said without preamble. "River's missing."

"She's not in any trouble," Freya insisted, getting slowly to her feet. "Jayne asked me before."

"And you couldn't tell about Hank until it happened," Mal pointed out, ignoring the flash of hurt in her eyes. Instead he swallowed the coffee, forcing it down. "We have to find her."

"Mal –"

He slammed the mug down. "Now, Frey! I ain't having someone else dying on my watch!"

"Fine." She walked past him towards their bunk. "I'll get my coat."

* * *

River had persuaded herself everything was fine. In fact, the argument she'd had with herself had been stimulating, bringing up all sorts of points of view she hadn't considered before. But she'd prevailed, and now strode towards the open cargo bay doors with a spring in her step and her head high.

Jayne stepped out of the shadows. "Where the _diyu_ have you been?"

"Busy."

"That wasn't what I asked."

"I went visiting."

"Where?"

"Medea Tanner."

Jayne's jaw dropped. "You did what?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "I said. I went to visit Medea Tanner." She shifted her shoulders slightly. "I need to change."

He stared at her as she crossed the cargo bay to the stairs, her low heels clicking loudly in the silence. Then he thrust his hand on the com. "Mal. My shuttle. Now."


	13. Chapter 13

Mal looked towards the door. "I take it she's back?"

"Yes." Freya retraced her steps back into the kitchen.

Mal cocked his head slightly. "Jayne does not sound happy."

"I think that's putting it mildly." She still wasn't looking at him as she walked to the counter. "You'd better go before he gets really angry."

"You're not coming?"

"No. Not this time. I think this is something you need to deal with."

He stared at her a moment longer, then nodded sharply, just once, and strode out of the kitchen.

Leaning on her hands, Freya tried to calm her heart rate. She knew he didn't mean it, that it was said in the heat of the moment, but it still hurt, and he hadn't apologised immediately, just left it out there, almost accusing her of being the reason Hank was lying in the infirmary, hooked up to all those machines. Which was irrational, and stupid, but she wasn't feeling particularly clever or sane at that moment. Just alone. She glanced towards the bunks.

* * *

"Are you _fong luh_?" Mal asked, anger bubbling inside him even as he took a microsecond of a pause. "Well, more crazy than usual."

"I know a hawk from a handsaw," River said, sitting down at the tiny dressing table and looking at herself in the mirror.

Jayne had explained, in terse, mostly monosyllables, what his wife had been up to. "Did you know 'bout this?" he thundered at Mal.

"No." The hard look on Mal's face was all Jayne needed to be sure. "Do you think I'd have let her?"

"I was safe," River insisted, taking the pins out of her hair and letting it loose, scratching idly at her scalp. "And I'm home now anyway."

"That ain't the point." Mal crossed his arms.

"Then what is?" River turned on the small chair to look up at her husband and her captain. "To keep me from danger?"

"Yes!"

"I can look after myself."

"Really."

"And I wanted to get close to Medea, see what makes her tick."

"She ain't clockwork, Riv!" Jayne said, shaking his head.

River stood up and began unbuttoning her blouse. "I could make such a woman out of clay with more feeling than her."

It showed Mal's anger that he didn't turn away immediately, only when the young woman also removed the tight bra that was revealed. "You're not going to get out of it this way," he asserted, glaring at the grey metal wall.

"Mal, we need information."

"Which we're getting. You didn't have to put yourself in harm's way."

"But you're more angry because I didn't tell you."

"Damn straight."

"And if I had told you my plan?" She stepped out of the skirt and quickly picked up one of her flowing dresses, slipping it over your head. "You can turn around again."

Mal span on his heel, confronting her. "We could have discussed it."

"Then you'd have said no."

"I might not've."

"Yes, you would." She sighed. "No matter that I am a crazy lunatic assassin, you worry about me."

Mal released a pent-up breath loudly through his nose. "A'course I do! I'm your captain."

"You're my _jia yan_." She crossed the small shuttle and stood next to him, sliding her arm through his, resting her hand on his taut bicep. "It's to be expected."

He looked down into her chocolate eyes, then stepped back, unlocking his arms so her hands fell away. "No. You ain't getting around me that way. You did something that verged on the insane, and that's a fact."

"I _am_ insane."

"That makes no never mind."

River sighed. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"Don't you want to know what I've found out?"

"Not here, and not right now." Mal turned and headed for the door. "The kitchen. Five minutes." He left the shuttle, and they could hear his boots thudding angrily along the metal catwalk.

River picked at a fragment of dirt on her arm, her head on one side as she contemplated Mal's reaction. "That didn't go well," she murmured.

"You expected it to?" Jayne was staring at her in amazement. "What did you think he was gonna do, offer you tea and dumplings?"

"I was working on my own initiative."

"Yeah, well, that can get you killed," he said shortly.

"Not so far." She sat on the bed and undid her boots, slipping her slim feet from inside and flexing her toes.

Jayne was watching her, but not with the usual passion he had for his wife. Instead there was an odd blankness to his expression. "You'd best be getting going," he said. "Mal won't like it if you keep him waiting."

"Aren't you coming?"

"No."

"Jayne?" She was surprised.

"I ... got things to do." He turned, seeming to search for something, anything, before picking up his rifle, the gun he'd used to take down the deer. "Gotta clean this, else might have a misfire next time."

"Are you angry with me?" she asked, knowing but not saying that he'd already cleaned it the day before, and pressed the tendrils of her mind at his mental walls. They seemed high and tight, lit bright red with fire from the inside.

"Mal's waiting," was all he said, grabbing his box of equipment and ducking out of the shuttle.

She stared at the empty doorway.

* * *

Mal dropped down into his bunk and shucked off his coat, tossing it onto the chair. Crossing to the tiny sink unit he pulled out the drawer and ran a little water over his hands, pressing them to his face before drying them with the old, thin towel hung up on the hook.

"_Gos-se_."

He leaned on the drawer and closed his eyes tight enough to see coloured lights erupt behind his lids.

"_Jing-tzang mei yong-duh ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng_."

What had he done to deserve this? Sometimes he wondered if life wouldn't have been easier if he'd never bought this boat, or if maybe he'd rotated the crew. Yeah, that might have worked. Not kept anyone on for longer than six months, a year maybe, before swapping them for someone new. New gunhand, new pilot, new medic. He knew some captains who did that, and they didn't seem to have the same kind of troubles he did.

He opened his eyes and stared at himself in the mirror.

"Yeah, right."

That was the trouble with hindsight. It was always twenty-twenty. And in this case almost one hundred percent wrong. If he'd done that he'd have lost the most _jing tsai_ mechanic in the 'verse, let alone a couple of pilots who could outfly the Alliance's best. And although he wouldn't have had to run quite so often because of River and Simon, the 'verse wouldn't have known about Miranda, about the Pax and Re-Pax, and Emil Quintana would still be trying to make better Reavers.

He took a deep breath. And he wouldn't have had his ...

"Shit."

Freya.

Slamming the sink drawer closed he looked up to the tiny shelf where she kept her meditation statue. An incense stick was still in the holder, something he knew hadn't been there this morning, and it had been lit, although as he touched it barely a couple of millimetres of ash shivered from the end onto his fingers.

She must have come down almost the instant he'd gone to speak to River, after he'd said what he had. That was the very faint perfume he'd picked up. Except for once she hadn't been able – or allowed herself – to meditate, to clear his words from her mind.

Rubbing the ash into his skin he jumped up the ladder two rungs at a time, looking first to the bridge then striding towards the kitchen.

She was cutting up vegetables, her knife taking slow, methodical slices off a carrot. "I'm making a stew for tonight," she said inconsequentially. "You know how it always tastes better when it cooks all day. And I'm using some of Jayne's meat."

He paused at the bottom of the steps. "Huh? Oh, the deer."

"Yes. What did you think I was talking about?"

"Wasn't thinking." He moved closer. "We got enough?"

"Someone should go shopping if we want more fresh vegetables," Freya said, not lifting her head. "Although we've got enough dried stuff to last us from now until Christmas."

"That much?" He tried a smile.

"Nearly." She still hadn't even glanced at him.

He withheld the sigh that threatened to slip past his lips. "I thought River's garden was giving us what we needed."

"Quite a lot, yes. But we have growing children on board, and they need it more than we do."

"The kids. Yeah."

Lifting the chopping board, she pushed the carrots into the casserole dish sitting waiting, then picked up one of the huge onions River grew. "I have to get on," she said quietly.

"Frey –"

"She's a genius."

"What?"

"River. A genius."

Okay, so she wasn't going to let him apologise, not quite yet. "So that means she knows everything? Better'n the rest of us who've had a few more years out in the 'verse?"

"Well, to date she hasn't really met anyone who comes close, so she hasn't had anything to gauge it by." The smell of raw cut onion filled the kitchen.

"She put herself in danger, Frey."

"I know. And I'm angry with her too." She went to wipe at her eyes, but he was there, holding a linen handkerchief.

"Don't," he said gently. "You'll make 'em sore." He dabbed at her cheeks, aware of the faint perfume of incense from her shirt warring with the vegetable's pungency.

"Thanks."

"I'm sorry." There. He'd got it out.

"What for?"

"Saying what I did. And I didn't mean it. Not a gorram word."

"That's okay."

"No, it ain't." He took hold of her hands, ignoring the razor sharp blade in her right, and pulled her around to face him. "I had no right to take it out on you. I know it wasn't your fault Hank got shot, just like I know you've been trying to 'see' who did do it. Haven't you?"

"Maybe."

"Was that what you were trying to do? A little while ago in our bunk?"

She shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Only me and my big mouth upset you too much, right?"

Finally she looked into his blue eyes. "It's not that big," she said.

Something like a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. "Yeah, it is. And there are times I open it without my brain actually being engaged, and it's like the gorram Osiris Canyon."

"Okay."

"What?"

"Okay. Apology accepted." She leaned forward and brushed her lips across his.

"So I'm not relegated to the couch tonight?" He smiled again.

"Day's still young." She returned it. "And don't be too mad at River."

He stiffened slightly. "No, now, I'm not going to let you talk me into going easy on her."

"I'm not asking for that. Just to ... understand her."

"Oh, I understand her well enough." He shook his head. "Frey, it's one thing to go wandering off when the mood takes you if there's no danger about. But Hank's been shot, and that makes this different."

"I know."

"I mighta had plans, ways of getting information that River's just screwed up."

"Did you?"

"I went to see the sheriff, didn't I? And that's not the point."

"I know." Freya did as River had, slipping her hand over his arm and squeezing gently. "Someone needs to be in charge, and that's you. Captain of Serenity. Else we could all be running around like headless chickens."

Her touch was warm, and he could feel it calming him – which was probably the idea, the little imp on his shoulder whispered in his ear, even though he told it to shut up. The slight flicker of Freya's lips suggested she'd caught the tail end of his thought. Still ... "Headless chickens?"

"Go and sit down."

"Still my boat," he pointed out.

"Then go and sit down, _captain_. I'll pour us some coffee. Fortify you for your encounter with our crazy lunatic assassin."

He glared at her, albeit without heat. "Fine." Knowing he smelled faintly of onion from where her hand had been on him, he walked around the counter towards his chair. "I've been too lenient on everyone, I know," he added. "They think they can get away with anything."

"Not _anything_." She wiped her hands and took two mugs from the cupboard.

"Pretty much. They all talk back to me, question my decisions, argue with me ..."

"That's only because we're a family. And you're the father."

"Did you talk back to your Dad?" There was a silence in the kitchen, and he swallowed quickly, turning to look at her as she stood, head down. "Frey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you of –"

"On occasion," she admitted, her voice very quiet. "But I was only a girl, and could be safely ignored."

"Frey –"

"And River is a woman."

The apparent non sequitur threw him for a moment. "Huh?" He sat down.

Freya carried the coffee to the table, setting one mug in front of him and taking her usual chair. "River isn't a girl anymore – she's a woman. A wife and mother. And that's without all the little extras she has, like being able to kill you with her brain."

"I thought that came with being a woman," he joked feebly. "Least I figure that's how Simon feels when Kaylee's mad at him."

"Oh, we can all make your lives hell without having to resort to making your brain run out of your ears." She sipped her coffee. "It's just River can do both."

"So that means she should be allowed to do what she wants?"

"No. But she thought she was helping."

"And what if she'd got found out? Frey, the warrants on her and Simon might be old, but they're still technically active. And the Tanners have connections with slavers – I know." He'd told her about the man in the saloon when Jayne was talking to Addie. "It only takes a second for her to be bound, then we'd have to rescue her, there'd be blood, and we'd be running. Again. And that's without even considering the New Browncoats, what they'd do if they had proof her and her bro were on board, if they believe what Quintana believed ..." That Simon's DNA could produce a race of super psychics, on demand, totally loyal.

Freya put her hand on his. "You have to think of all these possibilities, don't you?"

"Yeah. I'm captain. Kinda comes with the territory."

"I don't know about that." She smiled slightly. "There were one or two I served under during the War who were only out for the glory, and couldn't give a rat's ass about the possible side effects of their actions."

"War ain't glorious."

"You and I know that." She squeezed gently, interlacing her fingers with his. "Although having been a lieutenant I can understand the temptation."

She'd outranked him, eventually, something she occasionally brought up when his tendency towards wanting to take on the guilt of the 'verse pricked at his soul.

"Right," he said, tightening his own grip on her. "But you're not going to talk me outta being angry with River."

"I'm not trying to. She needs to see that, right now, with things they are, she can't just take it into her head and do something without at least telling someone where she's going. And giving them the chance to dope her before she does."

Mal couldn't help it. He laughed. "Dope her?"

"Or tie her down. Or at the very least make her take one of Kaylee's beacons with her."

"I did." River's voice made them look up. She was standing in the doorway, looking suitably chastened, although how much of that was an act was debateable.

"You been listening?" Mal asked, knowing what the answer would be, since eavesdropping seemed to be a popular pastime with his crew.

"Yes," the young woman admitted. "And I did."

"Did what?"

"Take a beacon." She stepped down into the kitchen and walked to the table, placing the tiny device on the old wood. "I'm not stupid."

"No?" All trace of humour was gone from Mal's voice and expression, and the anger that had been banked down by Freya's love flared into life again. "And how would we have known to check if something _had_ gone wrong?"

"I would have said." She didn't mean verbally.

"Right." Mal let go of Freya's hand and picked up his mug. "And if someone had taken you by surprise? Got a tranq into you before you knew it? Worse?"

"Bullet in the brainpan, squish," she murmured, then said, more than a trace of belligerence in her tone, "Then it would have been too late anyway, wouldn't it?"

_River_. Freya's mental voice was warning. _Don't._

The young woman ignored her. "I thought it was worth the risks."

"You didn't even tell Jayne!" Mal's voice seemed to fill the room, bouncing off the flower-painted conduits.

"He would have said no."

"And doesn't that tell you anything? That even your husband thinks it was a bad idea?"

"I wanted to help."

"Help." He couldn't stop himself. Pushing the chair back from the table with a squeal he got up to pace. "You wanted to help. By maybe getting yourself taken ... or killed."

"I wouldn't have been."

"No?" He was suddenly in front of her, his height making him loom over her. "There's someone out there with a gun that's near as _cao_ silent, and I got me a pilot down in the infirmary with a bullet hole through him to prove it. And you're trying to tell me you could've got out of the way if someone took it into their head to point the gorram thing at you."

"Yes."

"Every time."

"Yes."

"_Every_ time."

Her gaze faltered, just a little. "One hundred percent would be the height of hubris."

"But you can promise me that one chance in maybe a thousand won't be today."

"I can't see the future."

"But you told me you could. You told me you wouldn't get hurt."

He could see the indecision sweeping through her as she went over her own words, her own assumptions in her abilities, and he hated himself just a little. Except she needed to be reined in.

"I am a crazy lunatic assassin," she repeated, but it wasn't as firm as before.

"Yeah," Mal said, gazing at her.

She swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"But you're not. That's the point. You'd go and do it again if the situation came up."

"No," she insisted. "I learn from my mistakes."

"So you're admitting this was a mistake?"

"You think it was. So I won't disagree."

"Words. You're just playing with words, River, and that don't mean a gorram thing." He turned away from her, his boots noisy as he strode to the counter, leaning on it with closed fists.

River turned her dark eyes to Freya. _I don't understand._

_He's angry because he was worried._

_I was in no danger._

_He didn't know that._

_He didn't know I'd gone._

_And that makes it better? That he would have no idea if you'd been hurt? That you could have been killed and he wouldn't have been able to save you?_

River looked back at Mal, at his taut shoulders, his head dropped to stare at nothing in particular, and let her mind step delicately through his. Her eyes widened. Freya was right. It sat there, staring at her, pulsing like a burning heart cut through with pain. He was worried because he loved her. Not like Jayne, not with the passion of physical need, but as a father for a daughter, how he felt for Jesse. And more, she could see all the possible outcomes he had imagined, each more terrible than the last, and how he doubted he could ever survive if yet another part of his soul was ripped away.

Tears filled her eyes. "Daddy ..." she whispered.

He heard. He stood straight and turned to look at her, the honest sorrow etched on her face, and it cut him to the quick. He held out his arms and she ran to him, shaking as he stroked her hair.

"Shh, shh," he soothed.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled against his chest. "I really am."

"For getting found out?"

"Yes. And for making you worry."

"Well, at least you're being honest." He glanced at Freya, who was nodding encouragingly. He pushed River back enough so he could look into her face. "Don't do this again, _dong mah_? You got an idea, you come and tell me. Hell, we can argue about it until one of us is blue, but at least we can make a plan."

"And you'll know where I am if I disobey your orders."

He had to chuckle. "You ain't never gonna change, are you?"

"I have too much of my father in me," she said softly. "Genetics be damned."

"River, most of the time I'd be proud to have you as my daughter. Most of the time."

"Sorry, _jia yan_."

"And trying that pre-emptive meekness on me doesn't work," he pointed out, then pulled her back into a hug.

"Of course not." She closed her eyes, enjoying the paternal closeness.

"Now, you'd better wash your face, then tell us what you found out." With one final squeeze he let go. "Just so long as you realise who's gonna be doing the septic vat next time."

She laughed, rubbing at her face with the back of her hands. "Yes, father."


	14. Chapter 14

Jayne stared into nothing, his rifle perched against the weights bench he was sitting on. He didn't need to clean it, had done so the day before after he'd shot the deer, after he'd run through the long grasses to try and save Hank's life.

But the pilot wasn't the person on his mind. _She_ was. His wife. His moonbrain. The mother of his child. His River.

It wasn't what she'd done, at least not in the most part. If she'd told him what she'd planned, she could probably have persuaded him it was a good idea, or if she couldn't, at least he could have gone with her. Protected her. Not that she needed it, being a weapon herself, but he'd never be able to get past the times when she had a bad day, and he was all that stood between her and a spell in the infirmary, juiced up to the gills and strapped to the medbed.

It was the fact that she'd not trusted him. No. Not even that. That she hadn't even thought to tell him. Like he meant nothing. Like his _opinions_ meant nothing. She was a genius, that was undeniable, but sometimes she was more stupid than ... than the most stupid person he'd ever met. And considering the circles he used to travel in, that was pretty stupid.

His stomach grumbled but he ignored it. Food, whilst normally a very important part of his life, wasn't an issue right now.

She'd been gone a while. He didn't have a timepiece on him, but his internal clock told him it had been longer than a few minutes. Maybe Mal had torn her off a strip, or maybe she'd done the puppy dog eyes on him and he'd relented. Somehow, Jayne wished it was the former.

A sound to his left made him sit still, even more so than before. It sounded like ... rain.

"She's sorry."

He turned his head slowly, the bones in his neck seeming to grind so loud he was sure she could hear them.

She stood in the common area doorway, his rainstick in her small hands, moving it slowly backwards and forwards, making it sing.

"Are yah?"

"Yes." River stepped over the lip, the sound of rain on Serenity's roof following her. "And it was not her Jayne's fault. He is important. More important than anything in her life."

"Really." He dropped his gaze back to his hands. "So important you can't even talk properly to me."

"She's ... _I'm_ sorry."

He knew she was next to him, could smell her perfume, feel her heartbeat pulsing through the small amount of air between them. "Mal tell you to tell me that?"

"No." She dropped to her knees into his line of sight. "I made you angry. Hurt you. Sorry."

"You didn't think about me at all, did you?"

"Yes. But I wanted to do something by myself. Prove myself."

He gazed at her. "To who? Me? Mal? 'Cause we know what you can do. Don't have to prove a rutting thing."

"Sometimes I think I don't exist." She stopped rolling the stick, and the cargo bay became silent again.

"You're River. A'course you exist."

"Too many other things, and all of them broken."

He shook his head. "Riv, if you're trying to get round me –"

"No. Just explain. There were too many reasons as to why I wanted to do this on my own. To prove that I could. To be me. To not have to ask permission. To ..." She stopped.

"Go on, moonbrain," he urged, knowing they were getting to the nub of the matter.

"To win praise." Her face took on an aspect of youth, and his heart jerked painfully in his chest when he realised this must have been how she looked when she left to go to the Academy, before they took away her childhood. "To have someone say 'well done'."

"You mean Mal."

"No. Yes. Everyone. You." The words fell over each other.

He gazed at her, her fragility, her steel, and realised there was no point in being mad. River was who she was, and what she was ... was with him. "You gonna do  
it again?"

She shrugged delicately. "I'll try not to."

She was a gift, and she'd given herself to him. There was the distinct possibility that one day she'd take it into her mind to gut him, to cut his heart out with a spoon, but he wasn't about to do it to himself. "Okay." He swept her into his arms, bruising her lips with his. After what seemed like forever, he pulled himself away to ask her a question that seemed necessary. "Why the stick, Riv? Maybe you were thinking of hitting me with it if I didn't accept your apology?"

She snuggled against him. "Rain."

"Yeah, that's what it sounds like."

"No. Rayne. River and Jayne. Rain/Rayne. Together. Forever."

"That was it is?"

"Mmn." She hummed, the slight vibration transferring from her to him, then suddenly she stilled.

"Riv?"

Her head snapped around and she stared towards the infirmary.

* * *

Zoe found Mal on the bridge, staring out at Cason's Point. She slid into the other seat, her back ramrod straight as always.

"Busy, sir?" she asked.

"Not so's you'd notice." He glanced at her. "How's Hank?"

"Simon says he's stable."

"Any sign of him waking up?"

"Not so far."

"Won't be long, I'm sure."

"No, sir." She paused for a long moment. "Things don't change much, do they, sir?" she went on.

"Depends on the things." If she'd sought him out she wanted to talk, and he was going to give her every opportunity.

"People getting shot. Places like this ..." She nodded towards the windows. "Looking pretty on the outside but only floating on an ocean of poison."

"You been spending time with River again?" His lips curved, just a little.

"She just told me what she did. And why."

"Ah."

River had splashed water on her face then had explained about Medea, about the information she'd got from the old woman.

"She has this dichotomy over her sons," the psychic had said. "Wes and Brad. She loves them because they're blood of her blood, but despises them for being weak at the same time. Her mind is full of her other son, Troy."

"The dead one," Mal put in.

"Yes. He was the apple of her eye, the sunshine in her day, the moonlight in her ..." She coughed, probably at the look on Mal's face, then went on quickly, "Her mental walls are strong, quite naturally, because she doesn't trust anyone at all, but I think she knows about most of her sons' activities, perhaps even directs them, and thereby profits by them."

"Sounds like a peach."

River put her head slightly onto one side. "Peaches have a stone hard centre, so yes, I think perhaps that would describe her very well." She slid the hundred platinum coin carefully across the old wood of the kitchen table. "Here."

"What's that?"

"Blood money. Medea gave it to me."

"You don't want it?"

"It screams."

"You want I should put it in Ben's bag?" He was referring to the small sacks in the safe, one for each of the children, an extra coin added whenever they had a good payday.

"No. Too ..." She stopped.

He'd looked at her, studied the lines of her face, her dark chocolate eyes, and understood without her having to finish. "I'll use it to pay for our docking fees."

She'd nodded, happy enough not to have it in her possession any longer.

Now, though, Mal said to Zoe, "I'm guessing she told you I was mad."

"Yes, sir." She swivelled the seat so she could look him fully in the face. "We don't have to stay. Not for me. Hank's alive, and with Simon's help he's going to keep on living, at least until I decide I'm tired of him." Her own lips ghosted a smile, but it was gone as soon as it arrived. "Jayne might not be happy, but we can leave."

"My life don't revolve around keeping Jayne happy, Zo." He gazed at her. "Someone shot Hank."

"That they did, sir."

"So is this what you want? Us to run, leave whoever did it to get away with it?"

"What I want is to rip the man who shot him into pieces. And I know you know exactly what I mean, Mal."

His first name. As always, only used when she was making a definite point. "Yeah, Zoe," he said quietly. "I do." Too many days – and nights – sitting by Freya's side, praying that Xavier Wing hadn't succeeded in his attempt to kill her in the worst imaginable way. No. That was a lie. He _could_ imagine worse, but that was real, had happened, her body broken in almost every way possible, and he could still feel the hard deck beneath his knees as he prayed to a God he wasn't sure was listening that she'd not leave him. "So you think I'm making a mistake?"

He knew she'd tell him, like all the other times she'd disagreed in the past few years. Oddly enough, though, more since he'd been with Freya, so maybe it was a sign he'd mellowed.

For a long moment she didn't answer, her eyes on him, barely even blinking. Then, just as he was starting to get uncomfortable ...

"Injustice."

"I guess."

"We don't need to start another war, sir."

"Don't recall starting it the first time. 'Less my memory's getting really bad."

"You forgot where you left Ethan."

"That was Jayne's fault!" Going to a store with the ex-merc a few years back, his baby son in the sling across his chest, he'd been persuaded to hand him to the shop owner's wife to bill and coo over while he haggled about prices. Then Jayne had started an argument concerning their potential purchases, and they'd still been disagreeing as they walked out, parcels in their arms. It took Mal half the street to realise something was missing, then another ten yards to figure out what.

"She forgave you."

"Eventually." He sighed. "Zoe, to tell the honest, I don't know what to do. Someone attacked a member of my crew, my family ... coulda left Ben without a father and you without a husband." _Again_, he added mentally, but she knew him well enough to be able to tell what was going through his mind.

"It's not the same," she said quietly but firmly. "Wash was doing what he thought was right. And you gave him the choice, just like the rest of us. He _chose_ to fly."

"Only because he knew what would happen to us if I did in his stead."

"That's it?" She smiled ruefully. "Why you've held onto the guilt for so long? 'Cause you think he did it out of some sense of obligation?"

"Well, didn't he?"

Zoe shook her head. "Mal, I could just as well say he went because I did. And that's the truth too. But it's still not _all _the truth." She turned away to stare back out at the town again. "He did what he did for a whole host of reasons, including the fact that he saw the recording just like the rest of us, and it made him want to do something about it. Your way was the only way, so he followed. I know for a fact that he'd rather've not ended up going out like that, but ... you need to let go of the guilt." She glanced at him. "'Cause, frankly, it's getting old."

He laughed, surprised by her yet again. "Zoe, you make me feel ashamed."

"Not my plan, sir." She stood up. "Just letting you know you have other options." She walked off the bridge, every bit the Amazon warrior Wash had always said she was.

He waited, and it was only a minute before he heard another voice behind him.

"Is that what you're going to do?" Freya leaned over him, her arms wrapped around his upper chest.

"I figured you might be peeking." He put his hand on hers.

"It's become somewhat habit forming," she admitted, her breath making the small hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end. "Well?"

"Us flyin' out of here?"

"Mmn."

He pulled her around so she could sit in his lap, and gazed into her hazel eyes. "Not sure. There's pros and cons."

"Not really."

"You think?"

"I know you, Mal." She ran her fingers down his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of his beard growing. "If you leave this and run away ... it will eat at you. And you'll always wonder if there wasn't something more at work here."

He had to smile slightly. "I know I call you a witch sometimes, but ... damn, it fits."

"Not that my spells or potions are working," she said, her lips thinning as her eyebrows drew down, looking as frustrated as her daughter did sometimes. "I still can't see who did this."

He put his hand under her chin. "Frey. This talk you're going to give Bethie and Ethan – it goes double for you."

"But I –"

"No, you don't. If we stay – and I ain't decided yet – well, then I've got an idea who's responsible, so you just stop."

She glared at him, then deflated. "Nothing's working anyway. Not about that, anyway."

"So what do you see?"

"Cason's Point is sick," she said bluntly.

"Sick?" Zoe had said pretty much the same thing.

"It's like ..." She was trying to think of the words to describe a feeling, an impression, like attempting to explain a 3D image to a man born blind.

"Can you ... show me?" Something they'd done in the past, although mostly when apart, and for other more pleasurable reasons.

She gazed into his blue eyes, her own full of indecision, then nodded. "Okay."

"Shiny. Do you need me to lie down or something?"

A soft smile gathered on her lips. "That won't be necessary."

"Pity."

Pushing very gently at his shoulder, she said, "You do realise you're incorrigible, don't you?"

"One of my more lovable traits."

"You carry on believing that."

He chuckled, the resonance running up his chest and through her as well. "So what do I do?"

"Nothing. Although closing your eyes might help."

He raised an eyebrow. "Promise you're not going to do anything to me whilst I can't see."

It was obvious she was trying not to laugh. "Mal, I sleep next to you. I could do anything I want."

He shivered in anticipated pleasure. "That sounds ... intriguing."

"And a conversation for another day."

"I'll be holding you to that." He grinned. "Okay." Closing his eyes he added, somewhat unnecessarily, "Ready."

Gazing at his long eyelashes fluttering slightly against his cheeks, she let her walls drop, her mind open.

Mal could feel her presence, always there inside him (unless she was _really_ mad at him and the couch was in his immediate future), and his breath hitched as it became more tangible, almost physical. An image began to form of the town, just as he had seen it a few moments ago through Serenity's windows, but then the viewpoint shifted, moving higher, until the entire vista of Cason's Point was laid out in front of him like a map. If he concentrated he was sure he'd be able to see the people, little sparks of life moving through the streets and houses, but that wasn't what he was here for. Still, there were glows, brighter in some places like Addie's saloon, less in the outskirts.

A glow over the cemetery gave him momentary pause, and he wondered if Frey was picking up on the ghostly inhabitants six feet deep in their graves, and was about to ask, but his view moved higher still, taking in the foothills surrounding much of the town. He was, as always, amazed at her talents, and felt her presence warm as she picked up on his thoughts. He hoped that, if he opened his eyes, she'd be smiling, her cheeks touched with pink, but he didn't want to break what she'd created.

Instead he just whispered, "Witch."

_Concentrate_, she murmured in his mind, but it was a loving caress, not an order, that stirred other things. _Mal_.

He smiled, but the picture was changing anyway. He only had time to register a tiny glow of life where Mallory's place must be, and another not far from it in the hills overlooking the town before a grey cloud, shot through with red and black, made everything monochrome and indistinct, spreading across the town from the Tanner residence until there was nothing but thunderheads.

"Well, that's pretty conclusive," Mal muttered, feeling the need to clear his throat first. "Looks like it does boil down to Medea and her brood." He opened his eyes, then lifted his hand to stroke at the taut little lines between Freya's brows. "Enough now, _ai ren_."

She came back, recognition blooming again. "Did you see?"

"Yeah. I saw." The arm around her waist tightened. "That what you see? All the time?"

"Not all the time. But if I don't keep my walls up ... occasionally," she finally admitted.

"Then what I said before, about your talk to the kids going double for you ... make that triple. Quadruple. More."

She smiled, the tension in her shoulders evaporating. "I love you."

"Yeah?" He pulled her down towards him. "That's good. 'Cause I kinda feel the same."

"Only kinda?"

His lips worked at her neckline, pushing at the soft cotton of her shirt, and she sighed against him. He prayed it was always going to be like this. Her love had made him whole, in more ways than one, and he hoped he had repaid the favour. They were two halves of the same coin, soulmates as River claimed. Finding each other in every one of their lifetimes until –

"Do you want me to come back?"

Mal didn't move, just saying, "Yes."

"Then you don't want to know that Hank's waking up?"

Both Mal and Freya whipped their heads around to stare at River, standing in the bridge doorway, her dark eyes huge. Her hands were clasped behind her back, but her foot was tapping very pointedly.


	15. Chapter 15

Everyone was there – the rest of the ship had to be deserted. Even the kids were clustered on the old yellow sofa, ostensibly reading a story book, but it lay on Bethie's lap, untouched. Kaylee was staring through the infirmary window with Freya at her side, while Jayne and River were by the door, standing so close there wasn't even daylight between them. Zoe was of course next to her husband, holding his hand while Simon fussed.

"Thought you said he was awake?" Mal asked somewhat peevishly.

River turned her dark eyes on him, reading his soul. "He is. He just doesn't know it."

Mal raised an eyebrow at her but didn't comment. Instead he stepped over the sill into the blue room. "Doc?" he asked. "Your sis right?"

Simon paused, only half his attention on his captain. "Well, his vitals are improving a little, his brainwaves ..." He looked up. "I don't know. She usually is."

"So Hank's being his normal enthusiastic self?"

Simon grabbed his old-fashioned stethoscope and was about to make some, quite possibly damaging, remark when the man on the medbed groaned.

He wanted to tell whoever was shouting to shut up. They were way too loud, and his hangover was way too advanced. He wanted the elephant on his chest to get up too, but he didn't know the language. Half the time it was difficult to make himself understood anyway, so pachyderm was probably beyond him. Still, maybe if he groaned loudly enough they might take the hint.

Okay. Silence. That was good. Now maybe he could get some sleep, and when he woke up ... Gorramit, they were at it again. Shouting. Making his ears ring. And something ice cold burning just above his navel. He shivered, or tried to, and made a mental note to berate whoever had bought the last round – it must have been off. Except he had the idea alcohol had not been involved, particularly as the hangover seemed to be centred around his belly.

This was going to take more thought. If they'd only shut up.

"Hank? Hank. I know you can hear me. Open your eyes."

Simon lifted the stethoscope from Hank's chest and looked up into Zoe's face. "Keep talking to him," he advised. "His heart beat's getting stronger." He glanced at the monitor. "And his brain activity is almost normal."

"Almost. Huh. That'd be about his baseline, doctor," Mal said.

"Not quite." Simon replaced the stethoscope, for once preferring to use his ears than rely on any of his machines. "Zoe."

Serenity's first mate nodded. "Hank, if you don't open your eyes you're going to have to fight the captain for the couch, because you will not be in my bed for a long, long time."

There was a long pause, and she was about to speak again, when Hank's lips moved.

"Your bed? Not ours?" His voice was crackly, pale, and sounding like he needed his vocal cords oiled.

Zoe leaned forwards even more. "Hank?"

"_Ta mah duh_. Hurts."

Simon was immediately busy with a hypo, injecting it into the IV hanging from the rack. "Lie still," he ordered.

"I was ... thinking of ... going dancing," Hank ground out, then felt something like liquid bliss enter his veins, damping down the agony in his belly.

"Oh? Who with?" Mal asked, moving closer to the medbed. "Anyone I know?"

"Considering ... asking Frey."

Outside in the common area the woman in question hugged Kaylee as the young mechanic rubbed at the tears on her face.

"You think about it again and I'm gonna be the one shooting you," Mal advised.

"Okay." Hank let his head roll to his right. "Hey," he whispered.

"Hey yourself." Zoe stroked his forehead. "Idiot."

"Why, what did I do?"

"You weren't listening to me."

"Oh. Sorry 'bout that." He licked dry lips, then was surprised to find Mal at his side holding a cup with a straw. He sipped, feeling the water ease his throat even more beautifully than the painkiller dripping into his veins. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Simon pushed Mal out of the way, checking the sensors on Hank's chest. "I do have work to do."

Mal glared at him. "Just ask next time, doc."

Hank stirred uneasily on the medbed. "What happened about me?" His grey gaze flicked from face to face. "Am I dying? Is that why you all look so grim?"

Mal and Zoe exchanged a glance, but it was the captain who said, "Simon, I conjure we'll let you field that one."

"As it happens, no." The young man ran his practised eye once more over his instruments. "You're improving, so as long as you don't do anything really stupid – like some people on this ship – you should be fine."

"Hey, are you casting aspersions on my character?" Mal demanded, his voice covering Zoe's sigh of relief.

"Heaven forfend." If Simon's tone could wither Mal would have been nothing but a husk.

"Hey, if you two are gonna fight, at least wait until I'm well enough to referee," Hank said, trying to smile.

"That will be a while," Simon admitted, much more gently. "You're not out of the woods yet, but I think we can see a path."

"So River's gonna get her wish and be my stand-in?"

"I should imagine so. Although her and Freya might have to play Tall Card for the privilege."

The grin came easier this time. "Well, tell 'em both not to get too comfy. And nobody's told me yet what happened."

Zoe pressed his untidy brown hair back again. "You got shot, _bao bei. _In the belly."

"Shot?" Hank lifted his head to stare at the bandages wrapping his middle, then looked around. "Wasn't Jayne, was it?"

"No, it was not!" the ex-merc insisted from out in the common area.

"In this particular case, no," Mal confirmed. "Don't you remember?"

"Honestly? No. Least not much."

"Can you tell me what you do recall?"

Even Simon was impressed by Mal's soothing tone, and inwardly chastised himself for being so. No matter his captain's occasional tendencies to abrasiveness, obstinacy, even loud-mouthed obnoxiousness, when one of his crew was hurt he could be very gentle indeed.

A glance towards Freya, though, suggested his mind wasn't entirely his own.

_You too? _he thought resignedly.

Freya just smiled.

Hank was fingering at the dressing on his belly, at least until Zoe moved his hand away. "I remember talking to Jayne about killing cute little deer," the pilot mused. "Deciding to take a walk, and heading towards the old Alliance camp ..." He stopped, his forehead creasing. "Did I get there?"

Mal nodded. "From what I could see. As to overlooking, although I couldn't tell if you were going or coming back."

"I ... don't remember. Although there's a ... an impression of grey buildings?"

"Sounds like it."

"I thought it was a dream."

"Did you see anyone?"

"You mean who was determined to separate me from the land of the living?" Hank shook his head slightly. "No. If I did it's just a blank."

"Whoever it was would've been standing in front of you."

"No. Sorry."

"Don't be," Zoe put in. "You were wearing your armour. It saved your life."

His mouth twitched. "Anything for you, honey."

She leaned over him and touched her lips to his, an action so tender if the watchers hadn't known Zoe to be capable of such emotion they'd have been severely uncomfortable.

As it was, Simon was the first to speak. "And I think that's enough. Everyone who isn't medically qualified needs to leave."

"Not going anywhere, Simon," Zoe said quietly.

"No, well, not you, obviously."

"I'm thinking he means me," Mal said. He looked at his pilot. "Just you rest up," he ordered. "And no talking back to your doctor."

"Would I?" Hank joked.

"Yeah, I think you might. Only remember he's in charge of the pain control."

"Not sure I could forget that." He shifted slightly, and grimaced. "Give me the drugs, doc."

"Not yet."

"Sadist."

"First in my class."

Mal internalised a chuckle. It looked like maybe Hank was going to be okay after all. "We'll be around if you need us." He turned to the door.

"I think someone helped me."

Mal almost span on his heel. "What?"

Hank's face was creased, confused. "I think ... someone helped me," he repeated.

"Who?"

"I have no idea." Hank was reaching for the memories, but they ran faster than him. "Just ... someone. I think."

Mal swiftly went over the pool of blood where they'd found Hank, the scuffed ground, his own search for the original scene and finding the bullet ... Considering his own knowledge of battle wounds, he knew a man could walk for a mile or more with a hole in him big enough to put a fist through, but this was no battle, and Hank no wounded soldier. "I have the notion maybe you're right," he murmured. "Opens up a whole new kettle o' fish, though."

Hank looked relieved. "I thought I might have been hallucinating."

"Any impression on who?"

"Okay, enough." Simon was much more forceful this time. "Hank doesn't need to be interrogated."

Mal fixed him with his ice blue eyes. "Hell, Simon, if this was an interrogation I'd've got out the feathers and chains. Just ask Frey."

"You know, I really don't think I want to." Simon looked pained, just at the idea.

"Maybe you're right."

"Daddy?"

All the adults in the room looked towards the doorway.

"Hey, Ben," Hank said, just about able to lift his head enough off the medbed to see his son without it pulling on his belly too much. "How you doing?"

The little boy didn't answer at first, just ran to his mother to be picked up so he could look his father directly in the face. "You're not dying?" he asked, touching Hank's cheek.

Hank swallowed, and more than one eye had to blink hard. "No, son. Not dying. Your aunts and uncles did a good job."

"Gorram right," Ben whispered, laying his head next to his father's, and nobody felt the urge to tell him off for cussing.

Mal stepped back, allowing the little family time together. Leaving the infirmary he smiled briefly at Freya and Kaylee, then looked at Jayne. "Cargo bay," he ordered. "Five minutes."

* * *

Mal stood in the opening in the cargo bay doors and breathed in the fresh air as he stared out at Cason's Point. It was cold, and he could feel goosebumps erupting on his exposed skin, but he wasn't about to go and get his coat. A little chill wasn't going to hurt him, and maybe it would clear his mind enough so he could think straight, although right now all that was in his mind was the fact that the skies were still grey, leaden, and from the smell of tin in the air he was pretty sure Kaylee was right – snow before nightfall. Might only be a covering, but he wouldn't be surprised to see the town painted in its wedding gown by breakfast.

Okay, now he knew he was catching sentimentality from his wife.

Movement outside had him laying his hand lightly on the gun at his hip, and when he realised who it was he was still disinclined to move it.

"Sherriff McCoy," he said. "What a surprise."

Cutter McCoy, bundled in a thick blue overcoat that looked suspiciously like an Alliance army castoff, his hat thrust firmly on his head, nodded. "Just thought I'd drop by, see how your man was doing."

"I only saw you a couple of hours ago."

McCoy smiled, although it was more akin to a crocodile eyeing his lunch than being friendly. "Doing my job. And maybe I wasn't as ... diligent as I should have been."

"As it happens, it looks like Hank's on the mend."

"That's good. So it means you'll be leaving soon?"

Mal allowed the slightest curve to his lips. "Well, now, that's an interesting point. Seeing as he's my pilot."

"And nobody else on this thing can fly?"

Glad that Kaylee wasn't listening, otherwise McCoy would have got the sharp end of her tongue for calling Serenity a 'thing', Mal just shrugged. "I ain't too bad, but my mechanic says there's a touch of work to be done before we can take off safely. 'Less you want us crashing onto Cason's Point."

"I'd rather you didn't." Obviously realising Mal wasn't about to invite him inside McCoy thrust his leather gloved hands into his pockets. "Did your pilot remember who shot him?"

"Oddly enough, no. Although my medic says that's about normal. Traumatic event and all that."

"Of course."

"Mind, he might. Given enough time."

"Right." McCoy sniffed loudly. "Of course, without some kind of description it's going to be almost impossible to find out who was responsible."

"Oh, I know that."

The double meaning wasn't lost on the sheriff. "Are you accusing someone specific, Reynolds?"

"I wouldn't dream of it. And it's Captain Reynolds."

"Sure it is." McCoy looked around what he could see of the cargo bay, and the smirk on his face indicated quite clearly what he thought of Mal's pride and joy. His gaze coming back to the man in front of him, he went on, "Well?"

"Well ... what?"

A dog barked in the depths of the ship, getting louder until a brown blur flew from the common area, the clatter of claws on the metal floor stopping just short of the outer door as Fiddler let rip with a volley, the sound bouncing off the walls.

Mal leaned down and scooped up the little dog, just as Bethie almost fell down into the bay.

"Fiddler," she called. "Come back here." She ran to Mal. "Sorry," she said. "He got out."

"You know the rules," Mal said, handing the dog over. "He stays in your room while we're on the ground, especially here. If you can't keep 'em, we might have to revisit the arrangement."

Bethie's eyes widened. "Uncle Mal ..."

"Go on back, now."

She swallowed, about to argue, but something tickling at her mind made her say, almost meekly, "Yes, Uncle Mal," and hurry away back towards the common area.

Mal made a mental note to apologise to her later, but now wasn't the time.

"You got kids on board," McCoy commented.

"That we do. Not the only ship that does."

"No. Most of 'em have a base somewhere, though. So they can get schooling."

"My wife handles all that." Mal idly hooked his thumbs into his gunbelt.

"She's a teacher?"

"Among other things."

"I guess crew like yours would have to do pretty much everything."

"That's true."

"And you're proud of them."

"Surely am."

McCoy was having to work at the conversation. "Your kids taken their exams?"

"They're not old enough. Not yet." Mal shrugged, but felt the hair on the back of his neck trying to stand, and he wondered if maybe he was catching being psychic from Freya after all, like some kind of precognitive STD.

"Looked about six, maybe near seven. Alliance directives say children need to start being tested from the age of four."

"Does it? That's unfortunate."

"I'm sure Ms Thackeray at the school would be glad to arrange something."

"Well, I doubt we'll be here long enough."

"I thought you said you couldn't leave yet?"

"Then not long enough for arrangements to be made."

"I can talk to her if you like. Make it a special."

"No. But thanks."

McCoy huffed silently through his nose, the pale cloud dissipating almost immediately. "Yeah, well, that's something we can discuss."

"If there's time." Mal wasn't going to give an inch.

"Mal." It was Jayne, stepping into the bay. "Short stub said we had a visitor." He strode to the door.

McCoy's eyes flickered with recognition. "Jayne Cobb."

"Cutter."

"I heard tell you were on this boat."

"Word gets around."

"Not planning on doing anything stupid, were you?"

Jayne crossed his arms, making the muscles stand proud. "Depends on what you might call stupid. I just came to say goodbye, and now a friend of mine's gone and got himself shot."

"Jayne." Mal's voice was low, but there was a wealth of warning in it.

"'S okay, cap," the big man said. "Me and Cutter go way back."

"That we do," the sheriff agreed, then looked at Mal. "And if you'd take my advice, you wouldn't be trusting this man as far as you could throw him."

"Feeling's more'n mutual," Jayne said.

"And I might just be checking on the Cortex, see if there aren't any outstanding warrants on him right now. Just to be sociable." McCoy was grim. "You best be leaving soon as you can, _Captain_ Reynolds. We've got a nice quiet town, and I don't intend to let people just passing through make trouble."

"And the man who shot my pilot? What about him?"

"You can be sure I'll be on the lookout for him, and if I find him you'll be the first to know." McCoy touched the brim of his hat then turned on his heel, walking away.

Mal watched him for a minute, then stepped inside, closing the heavy door against the cold. "Nice friends you have, Jayne."

"Used to be. Least I thought so. 'Til he was the one sold me out to the Alliance."

For a moment Mal wasn't quite sure what he meant, then it clicked. "The job? The one where _you_ sold out your companions?"

Jayne shifted his feet a little, then looked up defiantly. "I was maybe a different man back then. But Cutter ain't changed. I always did figure he was the one went to the Fed post after me, told 'em I'd given 'em the wrong time. Prob'ly got the sheriff's job on the back of it."

"You'd told him the details? What you were planning to do?"

Now there was no doubt the big ex-merc looked ashamed. "Yeah, well, I was drunk. Seemed to spend a lot of my time staring at the bottom of a whiskey bottle 'round then. Wouldn't even listen to Indigo when he told me not to trust the _hwoon dahn_."

"Seems like Indigo was right."

"Yeah." Jayne narrowed his eyes. "Thing is, Mal, Bethie said he wasn't here on his own account."

Mal felt anger flare through him, and he took it out on the man in front of him. "Gorramit, when're those kids going to learn it ain't safe to peek?"

"She said it was Medea sent him. That it was right at the front of his mind."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"And that it wasn't one of the Tanner boys that shot Hank."

Now Jayne had Mal's full attention. "You sure?"

"Seems like they were home with mama at the time."

"Shit." Mal took a deep breath, holding it for several heartbeats before expelling it slowly. "Just how many enemies have you got on this rock, Jayne?"

"Hey, maybe it was someone took exception to Hank, you ever thought of that?"

"I've thought of a million possibilities, but now none of them seem to be any more likely than the others."

"Except maybe that it was fairies that done it."

"Except that one." Mal moved his jaw around, thinking.

"You don't figure it was Cutter himself, do you?" Jayne asked.

"No. Not really. I think Bethie would've seen that." He was still intensely annoyed at the little girl, but knew most of it was because he felt hogtied, unable to see things clearly. Instead he reached into his back pocket. "Jayne, go get some supplies," he said, handing out a few notes. "Anything fresh."

"Larder ain't that empty, Mal."

"No. But I want you to keep your ears open. See what folks are talking about."

A slow smile spread across the big man's features, but it could hardly be called pleasant. "You got an idea?"

"Like I said, I've been thinking."

"Yeah, I heard the noise."

Resisting the urge to ponder on the pot calling the kettle black, Mal just said, "I got an itch about this whole thing, like maybe there's more going on than seems to be on the surface. Why would someone shoot Hank?"

"Hell, I've wanted to enough over the years."

"Over and above you."

Jayne shrugged. "No ruttin' idea, Mal."

"Exactly. He wasn't doing anything he shouldn't. Shit, he wasn't even close enough to the camp to be within any off limits area, even if there was one."

Ah. "You're thinking he came on something he shouldn't have."

"Seems to be the only excuse I can see. Apart from the totally natural feeling of wanting to shoot Hank, of course."

"A'course." Jayne nodded and took the proffered notes. "Anyone in particular you think I might want to talk to?"

"Whoever you chose. You know this town more'n me."

"Maybe I'll go take a drink at Addie's. And go see old Mordecai."

"Mordecai?"

"Mordecai Hampton. The feller looks after the cemetery."

"I wouldn't'a thought he'd have had many folks talking to him. In his line of work."

"You'd be amazed at the kinda thing I've heard hanging around graveyards."

"I'm sure I would, Jayne. I'm sure I would." Mal didn't move, though, and after a few seconds the big man spoke again.

"What is it?"

"You think Mallory might've had something to do with it?" Mal asked slowly. "She did have your pal's stuff, at least according to Addie – maybe the Sharps was amongst his belongings."

Jayne pondered, his brows drawn down into a single unbroken line. "I don't know. Truth is, Indigo could've gone back for the gun. He wasn't too keen on us leaving it as it was. But Mallory was in the house all the time. Zoe'd've seen if she'd made a break for it."

"Even out the back?"

Jayne pictured the small house, the landscape surrounding it ... He shrugged. "Maybe. It would've taken some skill, and she'd've still been a long way from where Hank was ... and how would she know?"

"I'm just thinking aloud, Jayne. What about the boy?"

"Josh?" He was about to protest, but the image of Mal being held up by the kid holding a rifle shifted into focus. "Why? I mean, why'd he want to do it?"

"Protecting his Ma?"

"I doubt he'd have the guts. And he'd've puked 'em up after if he had."

"Kids can surprise you."

"Oh, I know. There was one time ..." Jayne's voice trailed off. "Anyway, Mallory said he was in school."

"You never bunked off?"

Jayne shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Maybe once. Or twice." He could still feel the paddling his mother had given him when she found out.

Mal had to hide the smile. Sometimes understanding Jayne was like reading a book. In big letters. "Yeah, well, I did too."

Jayne gave a rueful little smile. "'Sides, Hank said someone helped him. The boy's maybe sixty pounds wringing wet, if that. And Hank's no lightweight."

_Mal._ It was Freya's voice in his head, and from the look on Jayne's face he knew he'd 'heard' too.

_Ai ren?_

_Hank's remembered something else._

_What? Frey?_

"Better go see," Jayne said, stomping towards the common area.


End file.
